


Vengeful

by DyingSucculents



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Wars, Clones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s04e07 Darkness on Umbara, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Original Clone Characters, STRAP IN FOLKS, Umbara, but which clones will be saved, im literally just doing this to save clones, lots of clones basically, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:54:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyingSucculents/pseuds/DyingSucculents
Summary: It's rare for a Jedi to be in the Jedi Temple nowadays, but that's exactly where Ahsoka Tano finds herself. The War, however, will not stop for a padawan's studies, and a single comm call from a certain ARC unafraid to break every reg in the book disturbs the peace. The 501st needs help, and with the General away, Jedi Commander Ahsoka Tano is the only one trusted enough to aid the battalion on the darkened world of Umbara.Season 4, Umbara Arc Fix-It.If Ahsoka Tano was on Umbara.Almost Canon-compliant but that's for anyone to judge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Umbara is probably my favorite ARC in the entire show because, well, clones. I'm still trying my hand at fanfiction, so we'll see how this goes. Enjoy!

_“Tan― Comm― Come in― Com― Ahs― ka!―nder!”_ Ahsoka’s brow furrowed inquisitively as the comm vibrated its way across the library table in a series of blips and buzzes. A voice ― Fives’ voice, judging from the address of the incoming call ― cut in and out of the static, overloud in the tranquil Jedi Temple library.

“ _―ear me? C― kriffin― bara― Tano!”_ It sounded urgent. It had from the moment Ahsoka Tano had picked up the comm call ten long standard seconds ago; she could hear it the instant the caller’s scrambled voice came over the air ― could hear the agitation even without understanding the words. It was even more concerning that this tone was coming from Fives.

“ _Can’t h― Please pic― sir― Come― on!_ ” The string of choppy words ended abruptly in a disgruntled, frustrated cry and Ahsoka instinctively slapped her hand over the buzzing comm to muffle the sound. On a neighboring table, a group of initiates looked up from their studies, frowning over the tops of their holobooks. Ahsoka offered them an apologetic smile before cupping her hand, palm still face down, and sliding the underlying comm to the edge of the table before her. With a minuscule brushing motion, she swept the tiny piece off the wood surface and caught it neatly in the palm of her opposite hand, which had been waiting under the ledge. Her fingertips closed over the cool metal, and she brought it to her lips.

“Fives, you’re cutting out,” she hissed. “I’ll go find a more private spot. Try not to yell―”

“ _Comm― Ta-o!_ ” Came Fives’ replying exclamation. Ahsoka bristled.  

Across the library, jedi librarian Jocasta Nu stood up from the aged desk where she had been sorting a towering stack of old-style paper books. She didn’t even have to utter a word. The movement alone was enough to send the padawan scrambling for the door, scooping up her study materials in her arms and making for a secluded section of the outside halls. Whatever Fives wanted could wait until then; Ahsoka preferred to avoid another long-winded lecture on respect and awareness if she could.

The dimly lit hallway outside the library was surprisingly empty, so it wasn’t as difficult to find a quiet corner as Ahsoka had previously anticipated. Ducking behind a tall pillar a few meters from the library’s entrance, she relaxed, crouching to let the copious amounts of holobooks and writing utensils fall from her arms and clatter to the ground. The comm, contrastingly, offered only silence. Ahsoka assumed Fives was attempting to fortify his connection. Knowing the ARC, that could take anywhere from a few seconds to an hour. A crackling, followed by a distinct, long-suffering sigh, confirmed the former.

_“Commander Tano?”_

“Here, Fives,” Ahsoka answered, trying her best not to sound exasperated. “I should have known better than to answer a call from you in a library, huh?”

 _“You know me, sir.”_ He sounded relieved; Ahsoka wagered she could hear him smiling.

“Yeah, well you’re much more interesting than Alderaanian Diplomacy. What’s going on?”

_“Slight problem. The general’s gone.”_

Ahsoka’s first reaction was heart-clenching, stomach-dropping fear. No less than a day ago, Anakin and the 501st had arrived on Umbara ― a shadowy world in the Ghost Nebula that Ahsoka knew next to nothing about. She had only stayed behind at the Council’s recommendation, or rather, Master Mundi’s passive-aggressive suggestion that she should brush up on her studies lest she become _ignorant_. Her master, apologetic, had assured her she wouldn’t be missing much; that the mission was a simple lightning strike through a blockade followed by the quick domination of the sep-aligned planet. Reluctantly, Ahsoka stayed. Now she was regretting it.

“ _Gone?_ What do you―”

 _“Relax, Commander. He’s not dead. Just got pulled back to Coruscant. Something about the Chancellor, I think.”_ There was a pause, followed by the muffled sound of armor shifting abruptly. Then, distantly, as if Fives was holding the comm away from his mouth: _“Oi! Not done yet! Hardcase, keep him_ outta _here!”_

So Anakin was on Coruscant again. Ahsoka swallowed a chuckle; he most definitely wasn’t happy about that. Yet, before she could dwell on the thought, the comm jittered in her palm as something on the other end gave a loud thud. So far, the call had brought more questions than it had answers. “Fives, tell me what’s going on, _please_.”

“ _Not like― no, forget it.”_ A short pause. _“Commander,_ ” Fives’ tinny voice amplified suddenly, signaling that his attention was back on the conversation. _“It’s a bit of a long story, so I’ll… try to cut it down a bit. Basically, sir, when the general left, they brought in a replacement general to overlook the 501st in his place. General Pong Krell.”_

Ahsoka hadn’t seen much of Master Krell in the temple, even as a youngling, but the name was still familiar. He was a war hero, with a victory-to-defeat ratio even rivaling that of the 501st’s. Strange, she thought, that Fives would be considering that a problem. “Krell. Isn’t that… a good thing, then?”

_“Not exactly. We thought it was, too, at first, but he’s not as he seems, sir. We… we really need your help.”_

A cold chill ran down Ahsoka’s spine, and fitting the chip into the slot on her bracer, she quickly began to gather her belongings. Fives practically never accepted help, let alone asked for it. The stubborn, independent ARC was terrifyingly out of character, and it scared Ahsoka more than she cared to admit. Anakin had always warned her to avoid rash decisions, but this seemed rational; not in the logical way that any other jedi master would have approved of, but it seemed right nonetheless. Political studies suddenly pushed into the furthest corner of her consciousness, Ahsoka jumped into the abyss. “Alright. Alright, I’m on my way. Send me your coordinates and I’ll find a way to get a small freighter through the blockade.” She paused, knuckles white as she clasped her holobooks and ‘pads. “I don’t suppose you have an excuse note for me, Fives?”

_“You’re in luck, Commander. I have the speediest freighter in the galaxy waiting at the hanger. Not exactly military standard. It’ll get you here fast. Captain Rex also requested you personally, on behalf of General Krell himself.”_

“Can he do that?”

 _“On behalf of General Krell? Yes._ Would _he do it? No.”_

So there was a catch. Ahsoka should have expected it; there always seemed to be a catch with Fives. Pushing herself to her feet, she gathered the last item laying on the floor ― her datapad, which was now illuminated a soft blue with an incoming message. It was addressed from Rex to higher command, not for her, exactly, but about her. Fives, apparently, had copied the message to her. _Request C199093 // CT-7567,_ it read, _Requesting Jedi Commander Ahsoka Tano for assistance in the Umbara System, Shadow Nebula. Reporting to CO Jedi General Pong Krell. RV Coordinates 41.40338, 2.17403._

“Huh, Fives, this sounds _pretty_ official,” Ahsoka kept the grin from her voice, instead replacing it with faux-doubt. She dropped the glowing ‘pad on top of her stack of holobooks and began walking towards her quarters.

 _“You know, despite Echo’s habit of eating a reg manual or two for breakfast every morning, he knew a thing or two about formalities and all that_ osik _.”_

“And you’ll be returning Rex’s datapad soon, I hope.”

“ _Ahh, he’ll get it back sometime or another… Hardcase made sure the plan went off without a hitch. Good man, that Hardcase. Bit rough around the edges, but he’s alright,”_ Fives chuckled. _“Anyways, I’ll be seeing you soon, then, Commander.”_

“Copy that. And Fives?”

_“Hn?”_

“Thanks for getting me outta here. You know how I hate missing out on all the fun.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Ahsoka felt as if Fives was about to apologize. For what, she wasn’t certain, but something similar to guilt hung heavy over the comm lines. Then: _“No fun without you, sir. And thank you. We… we really need you for this one.”_

The comment would have made Ahsoka smile helplessly under any other circumstance, but as the comm signal closed, a swirling void opened up in the pit of her stomach instead. There was something foreboding about the upcoming mission ― something sinister happening to the 501st ― _her_ men ― even as she moved to begin mission prep on Coruscant. The Force was uneasy, eddying ominously about her, and this time, her master wouldn’t be there to help ease the disturbance.

 

* * *

 

From above, Umbara looked like something out of a nightmare. In fact, Ahsoka could almost say it was a direct embodiment of the sinister feel lurking in the Force, just beyond her comprehension. Clusters of glowing red orbs spider-webbed across the planet’s surface, something similar to Coruscant’s ever-present glowing systems, but completely contrasting in all other ways. The rest of the land was a deep purple, misted over and approaching black, but not quite reaching it. The atmosphere mimicked the hue of the glowing pinpricks ― inky red, but somewhat hazy ― and cast smoky tendrils into space. If there were any other minor details, Ahsoka couldn’t see them. At least, not behind the thick wall of starships.

Unsurprisingly, Anakin had been lying or, at least, minimizing the situation ― by a long shot. The Separatist blockade was most definitely _not_ a _‘tiny problem’_ ; hundreds of ships, some recognizable models and some less so, formed a thick wall around Umbara’s ports. Volleys of flak and laserfire filled the gaps. Thankfully, Fives’ freighter, true to his word, had really been _speedy_. How he had managed to snag a heavily modified CR90 Corvette was a question that Ahsoka had decidedly opted not to dwell on.

The Corvette had gotten Ahsoka from Coruscant to Umbara in record time: approximately fifteen standard hours. Previously, she had assumed that such a number of adjustments to the hyperdrive would result in an explosion that would rival even that of the _Malevolence_ , but the CR90 proved her wrong. Either that, or she had just gotten lucky. Corellian-made ships were known to be resilient. The Republic’s gunships, on the other hand… Ahsoka wasn’t sure how resilient a ship could be when faced with a full-frontal barrage of whatever-the-Umbarans-were-shooting. Even as she entered the planet’s atmosphere, gunships were still breaking through the blockade. Two crafts ― both 212th reinforcements, judging by the color of the pilots’ helmets ― had even accompanied the Corvette in its descent. Neither made it to the planet’s surface.

The first gunship, with the name _Republic’s Regards_ stenciled in blue Aubresh on its helm and an armored clone fist crushing a Geonosian drawn as its nose art, had been trailing her just off the starboard side of the CR90. A bright blue flash assured that _something_ had hit it, and the last Ahsoka saw of it was its detached right wing spiraling into the haze below. The second larty, _Trophy Wife,_ had been flanking Ahsoka since she had dropped out of hyperspace, and had broken the blockade alongside her. The nose art appeared to be a clone clad in scant 212th armor ― bare except for his shoulderplates and his kama, the latter of which was strategically placed to preserve his modesty. The clone, striking a Twi’lek dancer-esque pose, had a Corellian Jebwa flower clamped between his teeth. The mocking contrast to some of the other LAAT/i nose arts of female pin-ups had Ahsoka chuckling until the moment she split with _Trophy Wife_ to make her rendezvous point. The larty’s gunner had given her a little salute through the tinted glass of the cockpit as she veered off, the CR90’s sudden change of direction allowing it to avoid a direct hit from a glowing orb that hummed past the cockpit. Behind her, _Trophy Wife_ went up in flames.

The sick feeling in Ahsoka’s stomach followed her all the way down to the surface of Umbara after that. The Corvette’s sharp bank to make the RV point had offered a pristine view of _Trophy Wife_ as it tumbled below the sea of mist, the grinning stencil of the 212th soldier stripping off in flakes as blue flames licked the sides of the LAAT/i.

Turbulence shook the CR90 as the last glow of fire dissolved into the fog. Ahsoka swallowed hard, the ship’s throttle suddenly cold in her hand. _Trophy Wife_ ’s fate was one Ahsoka had seen many times before, from Teth to Quell, but this time, it somehow felt worse. _So much worse_ . Those men ― men who spent their whole lives preparing to die fighting ― went out without firing a single shot. It hurt much more to think about the shinies on board. _What if Umbara had been their first deployment?_ A harsh, blaring alarm yanked Ahsoka back to the present. The terrain, approaching faster than her cloudy mind could even begin to comprehend, filled her vision. Ahsoka sucked in her cheeks and yanked up hard on the Corvette’s controls, knuckles white against the craft’s yoke. She was right on top of Fives’ coordinates now.

The CR90 skimmed the ground momentarily before slamming down. Ahsoka jerked forward with the impact, nearly planting her forehead into the dashboard as the Corvette smashed through a thicket, spraying up waves of violet dirt. Tall, stalky flora crowned with luminescent red orbs whipped across the ship’s windshield, leaving inky streaks on the once-pristine glass before being pulled under. Whoever’s ship this was most likely wouldn’t be happy with her. Neither would Anakin. It was far from a delicate landing; Ahsoka’s thoughts had been elsewhere, although the rough set-down had done an adequate job of reminding her that she was back on the front. The front was no place to be distracted.

Grazing the back of a palm across her forehead, Ahsoka slumped back into the suede captain’s seat as the Corvette came to a grinding halt. The atmosphere was deathly silent now, aside from the ambient clatter of a crudely made charm hanging from the cockpit’s roof ― three clone codpieces strung together with a bit of twine. Ahsoka supposed it had made quite a racket during the descent, but she hadn’t been paying attention to much of anything besides the rapidly approaching ground.

That part, at least, was over. The descent had been hellish, but now was not the time to dwell on it. A long exhale cleared Ahsoka’s mind of any distractions, and with a huff, she pushed herself up from the chair and made for the exit.

Umbara’s topsoil was wet; unpleasantly so. The moment Ahsoka stepped off the Corvette’s boarding ladder, her combat boots immediately sunk down into the porous, spongy surface with a moist squelch. It brought back memories of Felucia, a devastating deployment with recollections that didn’t do much to quell Ahsoka’s unease. Further, the forest around her was _alive._ Similar to Felucia, the presence of wildlife in the Force was constant and no less threatening. Umbara truly was a nightmare of a planet. If Master Plo were here, he would have said a thing or two about manners and humility; this _was_ someone’s home, after all. But Master Plo wasn’t here, and Umbara was ― to put it simply ― terrifying.

Walking the distance around the CR90’s hull, Ahsoka momentarily took her attention off the perimeters of the clearing and focused on her comm bracer. _41.40338, 2.17403._ So she was at Fives’ coordinates, but the ARC, or even a camp, for that matter, was nowhere to be seen.

_Relax, Ahsoka. Don’t panic._

Ahsoka had been on unfamiliar planets alone before ― not commonly, of course, but she had survived on multiple occasions. Again, however, Umbara felt completely different. This time, she wasn’t afraid for herself. Others were depending on her. But while they were waiting, she was _lost._

Squinting down at her bracer, Ahsoka traced one fingertip across the comm-screen, touching a nail lightly to each digit that matched her coordinates. “Four-one, four-oh-double-three-eight.” A once over, slurred but accurate, follow a few moments later: “f’-one-f’-oh-three-three-eight.” _Alright, that matched._ With a satisfied nod, Ahsoka continued. “Two, one-seven-four-oh-th―”

“Padawan Tano!”

Ahsoka’s eyes snapped up from her comm almost as quickly as her hands moved to the twin lightsabers at her belt. The voice, astonishingly similar to a Kaminoan thunderstorm, gave a huff ― not quite a laugh ― at the reaction. It wasn’t hard to trace the source of the sound after that. Ahsoka’s gaze swiveled left, catching on a hulking Besalisk stomping a path through the underbrush. Behind his shadowy form, Ahsoka caught flashes of blue and white. Even the intimidating stature of Jedi General Pong Krell couldn’t stop her sigh of relief then.

“Master Krell,” Ahsoka bowed neatly, checking her reaction and dropping her hands from her belt. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise, Padawan,” Krell replied, baring his teeth ― _very many teeth_ ― in a smile. Ahsoka straightened as she caught the Jedi’s gaze roving over her, before watching it drift over her shoulder to the Corvette. “This is… hardly practical.”

“It was a last minute request,” Ahsoka replied easily, attention snagging on a distinctive Rishi eel stencil as it bobbed around Krell’s left side. A second helmet slid into view around his right: a pair of telltale jaig eyes.

Krell grumbled something low in his throat, and Ahsoka couldn’t tell if it was a hum of affirmation or something completely different. She didn’t really put much thought into it, either. Her interest was on Rex, or rather, the very peculiar way he had stiffened the instant he saw her.

“Padawan Tano,” said Krell, again, turning his attention back to Ahsoka as she squinted subtly at Rex. Her heart jolted at the way the general’s yellow eyes narrowed. Krell paused for a moment, before continuing slowly, voice laced with suspicion. “Am I correct to assume the captain has made you aware of your objective here?”

“No, sir ― _Master_. I wasn’t briefed.”

 _There._ Krell’s eyes narrowed again, and Rex, at the mention of his position, looked tense enough to snap.

“Well, Padawan… What the captain _should_ have told you was that you are here as my second. I was informed by the ARC that you act as the battalion’s commander, and the command structure flows much more… smoothly, with your assistance. Your position as second is for caution, due to the unforeseeable nature of this mission. You are also to report to Master Tiin, if necessary.” Krell turned sharply on his heel, facing back towards the direction in which he came. A pair of his arms were clasped behind his back. The stance oozed authority, yet Ahsoka couldn't help but feel absolutely lost by the rapid-fire briefing. “I assume the briefing was adequate," Krell barked, contrasting Ahsoka's thoughts completely. "Back to base, then. We move out at 0800. And next time, I expect your job to be done _right,_ CT-seventy-five-sixty-seven.”

Rex straightened impossibly further, and through the cold shock that had instantly doused Ahsoka’s body, she heard the stoic, “yes, sir.” And then Krell was gone, leaving behind a lingering sense of disappointment in the Force ― almost as if her presence disrupted some vision of his.

Nothing moved. No one said a word. The most agonizing part, however, was how neither Rex nor Fives appeared as outraged as she felt. On the contrary, Rex stood stark still, hands hanging loosely at his sides. His visor, pitch black and utterly blank, seemed to reflect his attitude. His Force signature was like static, and she couldn't grasp anything from it besides a strong sense of confusion. Fives, on the other hand, seemed... confident. Not in a proud way, but as if a point he had wanted her to see had been justified. Had Krell...?  _No._  

“Rex―” Ahsoka barely managed to choke out, but the captain effectively cut her off.

“Commander,” came the soft, dangerously defeated sounding reply, “respectfully, what are you doing here?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Commander,” came the soft, dangerously defeated sounding reply, “respectfully, what are you doing here?”

_“Commander,” came the soft, dangerously defeated sounding reply, “respectfully, what are you doing here?”_

Rex wasn’t yelling, although part of Ahsoka almost wished he was; somehow, that would indicate that whatever was happening was surface-level ― that Rex was merely angry and was looking for an outlet. She could handle yelling, then. Silence, on the other hand… she had no idea how to address that. Rex, however, was relentlessly patient and never yelled at her, although this time she half expected him to. She didn’t have an answer for him. As much as she wished she did, she had nothing to say. Whatever Fives had done… _Fives._

Ahsoka snapped around, the thought of betraying the ARC as the culprit a mere afterthought. Fives straightened instantly, yanking off his helmet.

“Fives, you didn’t tell me that… Rex that…,” she fumbled, one hand pressed against the side of a montral as she searched for words. She hadn’t thought… Well, she didn’t know _what she hadn’t thought_ , but it assuredly hadn’t included going behind Rex’s back enough to get him chastised. “You didn’t…”

“Look, sir, I can explain,” Fives said evenly, although looking utterly apologetic. “Krell, he―”

“Fives,” Rex instantly cut in. The reprimand was soft in volume, yet the tone was razor sharp. Ahsoka flinched.

Fives whirled, the hand cradling his helmet clenching into a fist. “We _need_ her, sir. You _know_ that.”

“That is not your decision to make, trooper,” Rex replied coldly, gaze set on the ARC before him.

“Then whose is it? _Yours?_ I’m sorry, sir, I trust you with my life and I have the utmost respect for you, but you’d have never called the commander, even if your _shebs_ depended on it.”

Rex’s jaw clenched, and suddenly, the atmosphere was as fragile as glass. The captain and ARC stood face-to-face in the center of the clearing, identical expressions set in hard determination. The thick brush around them seemed deadly quiet, and the Force pulsed unpleasantly about the two men, both freezing cold and scorching hot with pent-up rage. In mere seconds, the situation had spiraled out of control, heating at the velocity of a high-powered blaster bolt. Ahsoka had never seen Rex and Fives at eachothers throats like this. The camaraderie between the two men ― despite Fives’ occasional stubbornness ― had always been unbreakable. Now, it appeared to falter, and Ahsoka felt completely obsolete ― a helpless outsider.

“Rex… Fives…” Ahsoka tried, forcing the words out. Her throat felt like sandpaper. “Could you just hold it for a sec?”

Much to her dismay, neither man turned to look at her, although Rex appeared to force himself to relax. Fives stayed eerily still. Ahsoka tried again. “Fives, just tell me what’s going on, _please?_ ”

For several moment, silence hung heavy, complete except for the slight creak of plastoid as Fives’ fist clenched tighter. Then, he seemed to sag. The atmosphere, previously squeezing in on Ahsoka’s lungs like a vice, dissipated.

“Alright,” Fives sighed. “Alright.”

Rex took a step back, clasped his hands behind his waist, and looked at Fives expectantly.

“I _had_ to,” Fives said, dipping his voice to a near whisper, “Commander, Krell is… something else. The instant General Skywalker left, he was already calling us by our… numbers. Calling us ‘ _clone_.’” He spat the last word with disgust ― with such absolute revulsion that Ahsoka nearly winced. “We followed his orders, of course,” Fives continued, “even when he denied us rest after hours upon hours of walking. But then, when we finally reached the Capital, he disregarded the general’s plans and ordered a full-frontal assault.”

 _“What?”_ Ahsoka snapped, fury tearing through her.

“I suggested otherwise,” Rex said quietly. Ahsoka could barely register surprise through her anger. She had expected him to stay completely silent until Fives had finished, but he looked uncharacteristically exasperated. “General Krell brushed me off.”

Fives gave a small huff, his ire on full display as he considered the event. “Yeah. Yeah, he did. He sent us right into a trap, too. Landmines.” The ARC’s recollection was beginning to get choppy. Ahsoka recognized it as a struggle for restraint. The more Fives began to list, the more he was focusing on keeping his temper. “Lost Oz. Ringo, too. We got ambushed. Retreated. Krell gave us a piece of his mind, although it was the only thing we could’ve done, or we’d all be dead by now. Don’t you _see?_ I knew I had two options.” Fives held up a gloved forefinger in count and turned to stare directly at Rex. The captain didn’t flinch away. “I could have just stood there and followed orders. _That_ was what my training told me to do. I thought we could handle it like we always do. Or…” He held up a second finger. “I could go with my _gut_ . That this was like nothing we’ve ever faced before, and I’d regret not doing something about it later, _after_ we’d lost brothers. Rex, don’t you understand? I _trust_ you, and I truly do hate saying this, but this is… logically… beyond us. And don’t say I should have talked to you first. If you had known I was going to do this, you’d never have let me anywhere near a comm. You know that.” He paused. “Commander?”

Ahsoka understood, but more importantly, _Fives_ had understood. The ARC knew Rex’s faults almost as well as Ahsoka did ― perhaps even better, in some ways. A fierce sense of honor and loyalty scarcely counted as weaknesses, but in this case, it could only lead to death. The concept was hard to swallow, but Ahsoka nodded anyways. Fives’ foresight made her uneasy ― not at how accurate and breathtakingly rational it seemed, but rather because of what that rationality implied: that Krell was, as Fives put it, _something else_ ; that the 501st was outdone and at a major risk because of it. This was all real, and they were relying on her to help them through it.

“Fine. Okay, Fives,” Rex said slowly, as if he was still indecisive. He sounded exhausted. “We can work with this. The commander… she’ll help out. But I need to know what you did to get her here. If Krell asks, I don’t want anyone's _shebs_ on the line again.”

“Yeah,” Fives chuckled, “I’m surprised you didn’t chew me out on the spot after hearing Krell talk like it was your doing.”

“I’m surprised, too,” Rex replied, raising an eyebrow. He sounded amused; at least his sense of humor was still intact. “Now tell me.”

“You won’t like this.”

“No, I won’t. Tell me.”

Fives took a deep breath, and Ahsoka turned to pin him with a look, crossing her arms. He flinched. “I, uh, swiped your datapad. It was just sitting in your tent, I just…” It was Rex’s turn to cross his arms now, and the authority that radiated from the posture made Fives blanch. Ahsoka could hear the click of his swallow. “Nevermind. I just took it. Gave the commander a call as I was typing out a request. The specifics were something along the lines of… well, you know. Krell told you.” A miniscule tilt of Fives’ head made it appear as if he was trying to recall something, but Ahsoka recognized it as the ARC attempting to maintain his composure. Sure enough, he continued on steadily a few seconds later. “After I got the approval, I secured a ship for the commander, slapped in some coords, and then made sure you were… distracted.”

Rex stared at Fives blankly before understanding lit his eyes. “Is _that_ why Hardcase…”

“Yeah.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, I went to inform Krell that we were expecting the commander. _Casually_. So it made him think that I was just there with a message from you. That you knew she was coming.”

“And he believed you.” It wasn’t a question, although the half-impressed, half-incredulous tone that Rex took on made it sound like he was waiting for confirmation. Fives gave a small shrug in reply, his double pauldrons bobbing with the movement. A smirk pulled faintly at the left corner of his lips.

“Alright.” Rex, still looking slightly perplexed but covering it nicely, waved his hand in Fives’ direction. “Back to camp, then, Fives. No more questions. I don’t want to see any more unexpected Jedi coming in from here on out.”

Fives tipped his head back with a bark of laughter, and Ahsoka, bemused despite herself, met his gaze with a knowing glance. The ARC flashed his telltale grin at her in response as he turned sharply on his heel, although there was something infinitely more meaningful behind the gleeful expression. Ahsoka thought she saw relief in the depths of his eyes. Maybe gratitude. It was truly hard to tell with Fives, but his newfound calm and confidence acted as a soothing balm to the lurking anxiety that churned within Ahsoka’s stomach ― a glancing relief that faded quickly as she watched Fives disappear into the underbrush. _Just what had she gotten herself into?_

“I just can’t seem to get you out of my hair, can I, Commander?”

Ahsoka started slightly at Rex’s voice, feeling as if she had just jumped out of her own skin. Such a strong feeling of paranoia had previously been alien to her. Now it seemed to dictate all of her senses. She was constantly on edge. Rex’s warm presence, however, seemed to embrace her, a solid barrier at her back.

“You don’t have any hair, Rexster,” Ahsoka attempted ― and utterly failed ― to sound at ease. She felt Rex’s silent, concerned stare bore through her back, completely contrasting the faux-offended huff that he gave to humor her. She turned to face him.

“It turned grey and fell out when I met you,” Rex said, running a hand over the golden scruff. “I lost all hope of it growing back when Fives showed up.”

“What, _Fives_? He’s so well-behaved.”

A slight smile ticked at the corner of Rex’s mouth ― the first Ahsoka had seen from him since she had landed. Not that the captain smiled very much anyways, but his unease bothered her more than she cared to admit. She hadn’t yet grasped the entire scenario, but seeing Rex was all she really needed to determine that this was all new to everyone. _Still._ The apprehensive feeling in her gut was only getting worse. Perhaps it would be better once she saw the men.

Ahsoka’s attention darted off towards the underbrush that Fives had just vanished into. Just beyond the thick masses of indigo vines and aided with the tiniest touch of Force-sensitive hearing, she could hear voices ― all of different timbres and tendencies, but identical. Her expression must have given her away. A prompt dip of Rex’s chin in the direction of the noise and a gloved hand at the crook of her elbow urged her forward. The voices grew louder; Ahsoka felt infinitely less alone.

 

* * *

 

When Hardcase got excited, nothing short of an extra-strength rancor tranq dart in the _shebs_ could calm him down. At least, that’s what Jesse always said ― the man repeated it like a mantra whenever Rex showed up to investigate the occasional mystery combustion in the trooper barracks. Ahsoka, however, painfully familiar with nearly all the Torrent veterans, rarely took Jesse seriously. But now, with strong arms squeezed around her rib cage in the fiercest hug she’d ever received, Jesse seemed as trustworthy and respectable as Echo had been. All she could hope for was an extra-strength rancor tranq ― if not in Hardcase’s _shebs,_ than perhaps her own. Any relief from the vice about her midsection would be bliss.

“Sir, you are a sight for sore eyes. Ah, I could _kiss_ you!”

“Can’t breathe,” Ahsoka wheezed in response, although it came out as a squeezed-sounding, high-pitched gust of breath. Hardcase just pulled her tighter, and Ahsoka felt her feet leave the ground. One hand smacked helplessly against Hardcase’s back in response, the other arm looping behind his neck. Over the top of his shoulder and _beyond the white spots that speckled her vision_ , Ahsoka could see Jesse grinning from ear to ear. _Sadist._ She loved him anyways. The hand that rested behind Hardcase’s neck came up in a weak wave, before clenching and unclenching, fingers splayed against plastoid, against another squeeze. Jesse’s grin split into a full laugh.

“Enough, ‘Case, put her down. Save some of that love for Krell, he’ll be upset if you don’t.”

“Sorry, Commander,” Hardcase chuckled, setting her down so gently that Ahsoka almost managed a laugh; it was such a stark contrast to the sheer strength he had just put into the hug that she could barely comprehend it. Rather than a laugh, however, Ahsoka simply gave a feeble cough and took a few staggering steps backwards, bumping into Kix. The medic steadied her with an arm about her waist, his fingers trailing up her torso, casually checking each rib as if it were standard procedure to do so for anyone recently hugged by Hardcase.

“All accounted for, Kix?” Ahsoka asked, taking a gulp of air and wincing as something popped beneath Kix’s fingers.

“Surprisingly, sir. Especially after an encounter with Hardcase.”

Perking up at the sound of his name, Hardcase ambled over, swinging an arm around Kix’s neck and deftly leaning half of his weight on him. The medic’s hand left Ahsoka’s ribs as he stumbled back in an attempt to keep his balance. Rex instantly replaced him at her side, dragging a durasteel munitions crate behind him.

“‘S that for?” Ahsoka asked, tipping her chin pointedly in the direction of the crate. “Extra ammo?”

“Sitting,” Rex replied curtly.

“Oh.”

Ahsoka, reluctantly, sat as Rex nudged the crate against the back of her legs with his heel. He then settled next to her on the ground, back against the durasteel and head level with her hips ― a dangerous position, Ahsoka decided, as she nearly hit the back of his head with her knee while pulling herself into a cross-legged position atop the crate.

For some time, Rex said nothing. Ahsoka returned his silence with her own, instead tuning in to the ambient chatter of the 501st settled around the camp. The hushed conversations were occasionally punctuated with distant explosions ― the familiar crack of anti-aircraft flak and the toneless, alien hum of Umbaran rocketfire, growing ever closer. The Umbarans were targeting them, then. Krell had been a madman to give away their presence, and distantly, Ahsoka wished for Anakin. He would have undoubtedly given away their positions by this point, if he had been here, but at least it would have been for a productive cause. Instead, the men were restless and exhausted, huddled together without tents, so as to assure a brief cleanup, and without fires, so as not to attract attention. Morale was low; Ahsoka could feel it.

“I wish you weren’t here.”

“What?” Ahsoka’s eyes focused abruptly, and she realized she had been staring blankly across the campsite. The source of the voice, however, hadn’t been mistaken.

“I said: I wish you weren’t here,” Rex repeated. Ahsoka couldn’t see his eyes, but she had a feeling they were cloudy with conflict. She could hear it in his voice ― could see it in the way his attention was directed straight ahead, sightlessly.

Ahsoka’s immediate instinct was to defend herself against his words ― against the frigid pool of disappointment they created in her gut. “Rex, I promise I won’t be a burden.” She instantly realized she sounded _desperate_ , and her left hand, which had shot to Rex’s shoulder bell, only made it worse. “I’ll watch your back, you―”

“No, Commander. I meant that we shouldn’t have dragged you into this. It’s _dangerous_ , I don’t want you...,” Rex trailed off, his own gloved hand brushing up past his breastplate to find hers. He grasped her fingers in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze, before dropping his hand ― almost awkwardly ― to his lap. “I don’t like this. I don’t like that we’re here. I don’t like that _you’re_ here.”

Well, she hadn’t expected that. It was an admission that she thought she’d never hear from Rex, and in any other situation, she might have even found herself offended. But this was touching. _No, not quite._ Worrisome. She preferred not to dwell on it.

“I… don’t like that we’re here, either, but I don’t think I’ve ever necessarily been excited for blockade running,” she tried, attempting to lighten the mood. “Or crushing clankers. Or wets.” She tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes, as if trying to recall something from memory. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rex glance up at her, inquisitive. He appeared to fight back a grin for a second, so Ahsoka pitched her voice to a thoughtful lilt and kept talking. “Or seps. Or rebels. Or sep rebel wets who looks like clankers, or…”

 _There_. Rex chuckled, turning away and leaning against the crate again so that the back of his head rested on her knee. The bristly texture of his haircut made her stifle a laugh.

“Damn those _dikut’la_ sep rebels wets who look like clankers.”

“You heard it here first, folks,” Ahsoka chided, bracing her elbows on her thighs and resting her chin in her palms. “He hates those with a vengeance.”

Rex gave a small huff of a laugh in response and closed his eyes. The silence returned instantly, although this time, it was easier. Lighter. Some distance away, through the shroud of ever-present haze, Ahsoka could see Hardcase atop Jesse’s shoulders, both mens’ arms outstretched and waving wildly. _Were they supposed to be Krell?_ She gave a snort of amusement and shut her eyes as the laughter of the gathered 501st reached her, a temporary shield from the sound of the advancing Umbarans.

Rex shifted against the crate, and Ahsoka lazily opened an eye, her attention slowly dropping to catch on the local time embedded in her bracer, then further, to the captain. He was asleep; fitfully so, but asleep. Good. The knot of anxiety within her stomach loosed a fraction, and she closed her eyes once more.

Against the darkness of her closed eyelids and moments before she slipped into meditation, Ahsoka visualized the glowing blue imprint of the time on her bracer. 0700. A booming voice ― a recent memory ― sparked through her drifting mind at the sight. _We move out at 0800_ , it thundered, and Ahsoka tried her absolute best to shut out what came next. Her efforts were to no avail. _And next time, I expect your job to be done right, CT-seventy-five-sixty-seven._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes alright I'm sorry this is so short and took so long. My writing is in the dumps right now, but for the next two weeks, I'll be taking a course at Yale (!!), so hopefully a small break will get me back on track. Thank you so much for your patience! Feel free to leave any feedback (like on my torn and tattered pacing help), it'd be much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Ahsoka had ever heard cannonfire was on Christophsis at the start of the war. She had been 14 then, fresh out of the Jedi Temple. Everything had seemed new ― exciting, even. Then came Teth. Bothawui, then Maridun, and Ryloth. The cannonfire, although still exhilarating, seemed rather routine. A year later and it was a sound that Ahsoka simply felt uneasy without. It lingered in her dreams, served as her heartbeat at times, and was the subtle background to every session of meditation. But never in her life had Ahsoka heard cannonfire like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT, I've done it.  
> For all the time I've been absent, I may or may not have busted my ass to grind out a nearly 10,000 word chapter. It may or may not be terrible, but I felt really guilty about not updating, so here goes.

The first time Ahsoka had ever heard cannonfire was on Christophsis at the start of the war. She had been 14 then, fresh out of the Jedi Temple. Everything had seemed new ― exciting, even. Then came Teth. Bothawui, then Maridun, and Ryloth. The cannonfire, although still exhilarating, seemed rather routine. A year later and it was a sound that Ahsoka simply felt uneasy without. It lingered in her dreams, served as her heartbeat at times, and was the subtle background to every session of meditation. But never in her life had Ahsoka heard cannonfire like _this_.

“Down, get _down!_ ”

The soggy ground trembled beneath Ahsoka’s combat boots as a glowing orb slammed into the soil to her immediate left. A second followed a breath behind the first, kicking up fragments of dirt and grit and showering her with the pieces. Battle was an odd thing. Even with the alien hum of the hovering Umbaran starfighters and the deafening explosions going up all around her, Ahsoka was still hyperaware of the rocky bits clattering off Rex’s plastoid armor. Her nose burned with the acrid scent of the tibanna gas fumes that his DC-15’s discharged and out of the corner of her eye, she could see the bright blue flashes that his blaster bolts reflected across his helmet.

The acute attention to detail was something that came naturally to Ahsoka, undoubtedly due to her identity as a Jedi and a Togruta. Before, when she was new to the battlefield, her senses overwhelmed her, building into a blinding wave of panic. Now, with blaster bolts and the unnerving Umbaran cannonfire flying about her, it was still there ― but it was something she had learned to control. It helped her to understand the circumstances of battle, and currently, it was _much_ too easy to understand that the ongoing conflict was not in their favor.

A pair of iridescent orbs flew mere inches above Ahsoka’s montrals before she even realized an Umbaran fighter had returned to launch them, and a chorus of cries from behind her signified that it had hit its mark. For a brief moment, the panicked tide threatened to engulf the Jedi. Her shoto blade halted mid-arc, and it became a physical struggle to lower it. _Focus. Just focus. Now drop._ Ahsoka let her legs go boneless, allowing herself to fall heavily to the dirt like a sack of blasters to avoid being hit. Rex was suddenly on the ground at her side, an arm around her waist yanking her out of a barrage of green laserfire. The air left her lungs in a pained grunt as he rolled over her chest, lying on his side in front of her to return fire. The Umbaran fighter swung around, knocking away a nearby AT-RT before darting off into the darkened sky.

“We have got to _move_ before those fighters come back!” Rex yelled over his shoulder, shoving himself up and pulling Ahsoka along with him.

“Rex!” Someone ― it sounded like Fives ― called in response. “Rex, over here!”

The reassuring hand on her forearm vanished, and Rex disappeared into the haze. Ahsoka moved to follow him, but a torrent of laserfire forced her further behind a covering mass of local flora. The Umbaran ground forces had spotted her, then. Deactivating her shoto and clipping it to her belt, Ahsoka dropped to a crouch and listened. Distantly, she heard Rex’s commanding voice calling flanks. He hadn’t gone far.

From behind the thick stalks, it was difficult to see just where the 501st had gathered. The battlefield swam with deep purple mist illuminated by glowing flickers of blue and green bolts, and from beyond the thick fog, the cries of the injured mingled with the occasional trills of the airborne scavengers. The atmosphere was beyond eerie; it was downright overwhelming.

A volley of Umbaran fire darted inches from the tip of Ahsoka's nose, forcing her to jerk back behind the flora. Although she couldn't directly see the 501st through the haze, she was now well aware of their location, judging by the concentration of Umbaran fire. Fortunately for her ― although unfortunately for them ― they had attracted nearly all enemy attention. That left her with a clear path around the thick wall of laserfire. It seemed relatively easy to navigate ― that was, if the Umbarans didn't spot her in the process.

The route Ahsoka had quickly formulated in her mind’s eye led her in a wide semi-circle around the rapid-fire exchange, allowing her to slip into the cover behind the 501st forces. It wasn’t a long or particularly treacherous path, but it was completely open and left her utterly defenseless. Once she left the cover that the stalks at her back provided, there would be no turning around.

Deactivating her lightsaber to avoid drawing any attention, Ahsoka took a deep breath and crept out from behind her cover, keeping her eyes trained on the concentrated area of fire ahead of her. _Not much further. Keep going._ It wasn’t a complete lie; the 501st hadn’t been that far away to begin with, but with the Umbarans at such a close proximity, every second seemed to drag into an hour. She wasn’t even halfway there yet.

To her right, and _much_ too close for comfort, a concealed det went off, sending a fine rain of damp topsoil scattering over her. It took nearly all of Ahsoka’s self control not to jump at the sound, yet she couldn’t help the way her head swiveled to search for the cause. It wasn’t difficult to find. Pieces of a local scavenger thudded heavily to the ground moments later, and as Ahsoka glanced up to observe, a piece of grit caught in her eye.

With a frustrated snarl, she dug the heel of her palm into her eye in an attempt to dislodge the offending irritation, only succeeding in rubbing the coarse grain in further. A tear tracked down her cheek, but offered no relief. Now was _not_ the time for this. Pushing herself up to balance on her knees, Ahsoka sought to blink away the grit, only to be met with the searing heat of a blaster bolt skimming her shoulder. She forced out a muffled cry and fell back to her hands and knees, resuming her slow crawl.

It only took seconds for her hands to come across another source of pain. A single torn strip of metal dug into the leather of her bracers as her palm came down on the remnants of an AT-RT ― the same AT-RT that she had seen demolished by the Umbaran fighter mere minutes earlier. A hushed curse fell from Ahsoka’s lips as the warm flush of blood swept over her hand, accompanied by a sharp sting. A weak flood of adrenaline forced Ahsoka’s arm forward on its own accord, but instead of the cutting pain she was expecting to feel again, her fingers came down on flesh.

A _hand._ And its fingers closed over her own.

“ _Sithspit!”_ Ahsoka hissed, jerking her arm back, the movements sending droplets of blood spraying over the collapsed AT-RT’s exterior.

“Sir, sorry, sir. Is that you?” A clone’s voice, shaky, but still clear, sounded from beneath her. “Commander Tano?”

Ahsoka swore her heartbeat was loud enough that even the clone could hear it through the chaotic atmosphere. Taking a steadying breath, she brought both hands back to cup gloved fingers in her palm. “It’s me. It’s me, sorry, trooper. Are you injured?”

A slight pause. Then, “No, no, sir. I don’t think so. I’m just… stuck.”

Releasing the clone’s hand, Ahsoka followed the outline of his form downwards. His hair was tousled, matted damply against his forehead with dirt, sweat, and blood. His helmet lay some distance away. Ahsoka assumed it had been knocked off in the collision with the fighter ― the collision which left his AT-RT crumpled and splayed across his lower half. _Kriff._ Moving it was bound to attract some unwanted attention.

“Are you sure nothing’s broken?” Ahsoka turned her attention back to the clone, looping one arm under both of his and hoisting him up against her thigh. “We might have to make a run for it.”

“I’ll be fine, sir.”

“Okay. Hang on.”

With one arm still wrapped firmly about the clone’s chest, Ahsoka closed her eyes and reached out, touching the cool metal of the downed AT-RT and capturing its image in her mind. _Now,_ _lift._ Metal creaked. Something heavy ― Ahsoka assumed it was one of the walker’s legs ― shifted. Distantly, Ahsoka heard the clone suck in a breath. She felt his armored chest expand against her forearm, although her attention was suddenly torn away by the first _ping_ of a blaster bolt against the rising transport. Several more followed in quick succession.

“Sir.” Through her focus, Ahsoka heard the clone address her, his voice laced with relief, which quickly morphed into panic. An accompanying squirm, and she felt his presence leave her arm. “Sir, we have to _go_.”

Another barrage of blaster bolts slammed into the levitating AT-RT, and Ahsoka felt the walker pitch to the left. Her control was fraying. The clone was free, but the vehicle was the only thing keeping the Umbarans from shooting both herself and the trooper to pieces. _Rex_ must _have noticed by now, where_ was _he?_

The scorching heat of a blaster bolt zipped past Ahsoka’s cheek, barely catching the edge of her right lek. The resulting pain demolished any remnants of her tattered focus. With a metallic screech, the AT-RT came crashing down ― but not before Ahsoka had the chance to heave it forward with the few strands of concentrated strength she had left. The vehicle lurched and vanished into the fog. The blaster bolts disappeared. The voice of the AT-RT pilot dissipated. Beyond the buzzing in her head, she could faintly perceive the momentary silence that the act had created. The Umbarans were distracted, caught off guard, but only for a matter of seconds. It would only be an instant before the fire would return. If only she could get _up_ and―

A pair of strong hands found their way under Ahsoka’s arms and hauled her to her feet, practically dragging her for a good few paces before she found the sensibility to run. The volley of fire had returned now, but this time, streaks of blue shot out from the surrounding forest to defend her. The hands which had pulled her up were now clasped around her left wrist in an iron grip, tugging her along. Ahsoka could barely make out the features of the clone AT-RT driver before the darkness of the covering underbrush enveloped her.

 

* * *

 

“Commander!”

“ _Kriff,_ sir! We thought we lost you!”

“You really got beat up out there, sir. Are you alright?”

Ahsoka blinked blearily at the swarming 501st as they surrounded her, encompassing her in a wave of concern and relief. Kix was the closest, with his bacta-coated thumb tracing the burn on her right lek. His golden-brown eyes swam in and out of focus as Ahsoka scanned the crowd, her gaze catching on each man for a fraction of a second before moving on. A few inches to Kix’s right was the AT-RT pilot, with both of his hands cradling her own bloodied one. Every time she flinched away from Kix’s examination, he gave her fingers a small, reassuringly gentle squeeze. Even then, he looked absolutely beside himself ― lost, helpless, perhaps even a touch regretful. For what reason, Ahsoka was unsure, but it was enough to distract her momentarily from her search.

“I don’t think I caught your name, trooper.” She shifted her hand in his grip to draw his attention. The clone looked up, eyes attentive yet surprised.

“Me?”

Ahsoka couldn’t stop the smile that his flustered answer elicited, and the AT-RT pilot grinned back helplessly in response.

“It’s Skip, sir. Thanks for hauling my _shebs_ back there. I…,” Skip paused, looking troubled. “I don’t think I would’ve made it without you.”

Ahsoka grimaced, completely understanding the weight behind his words. The Umbaran scavengers seemed to be just as unforgiving as the planet itself. She’d only been dirtside for a day, and already, she had witnessed the banshees carry off six live clones. Skip had obviously been well aware of the implications his situation had bore. Shaking off the thought, Ahsoka flipped her hand over so that her palm lay flat against his own. The action, although tiny, reopened the broad cut spanning the width of her hand. It would be a pain in the _shebs_ when it came to wielding her shoto ― another problem to tack on to her long list of worries. Ahsoka, decidedly, changed the subject.

“Your helmet ― did you get it back?”

Skip shook his head in earnest silence. “No.” The answer sounded strangely wistful. “It’s alright, though. I didn’t have any paint on it or anything, so it should be easy to replace.”

Ahsoka raised a brow, but Kix, focus still placed on her lek, voiced her thoughts before she could get them out. “This your first battle?”

Skip nodded, averting his eyes as if embarrassed. The medic gave a small hum of understanding. “Hell of an introduction but it’s nothing to be shy of, kid. You’ll definitely earn your stripes after... whatever _this_ is.”

Ahsoka turned her attention to Kix sharply, expression laced with confusion despite herself. He had said the last three words so quietly that she had almost missed them; Skip was oblivious to them entirely, and it wasn’t at all like the medic to mumble. Drawing back her hand and wincing at the dark streaks it left behind on Skip’s gloves, she turned to face Kix fully.

“What happened?” Ahsoka pitched her voice to a near-whisper, tilting her head sharply to dislodge the medic’s fingers from her lek. “That didn’t sound like you at all.”

“I…,” Kix hesitated. His hand hovered a fraction above her injury, as if he was suddenly afraid to touch her. Skip caught on instantly.

“Kix?”

At the sound of his name, Kix straightened immediately and crossed his arms, much too casually to be genuine. It was a class act, and Ahsoka very nearly called him out on it. Jesse always said that medics tried to put problems off as less of a concern than they actually were. Kix was no exception. Luckily, he seemed to be aware of his own shortcomings. Clearing his throat, the medic glanced purposefully at Skip, eyes flickering with apprehension. “Commander, a word?”

With a courteous nod, Skip stood and hurried off into the milling crowd of troopers. Ahsoka watched him go, following his form until he disappeared from sight. When she could no longer distinguish him in the crowd of 501st, she turned to Kix. “Kix, what _happened_?”

For a moment, Ahsoka was afraid that the medic would shut down. His gaze was so distant that it seemed about plausible he would. Yet, instead of brushing off her question again, Kix drew a long, slightly shaky breath, and shifted to look at her.

“As a medic,” he began, “it bothers me a _lot_ to leave injured men behind. It would bother any trooper, I’d think.”

Ahsoka gave a quaint nod, not exactly sure what Kix was getting at. Boundlessly vigilant, he caught her confusion instantly and clarified. “It bothers me even more when we’re ordered to leave _uninjured_ men behind. An uninjured _commander_.”

A cold shock shot through Ahsoka’s chest, and she couldn’t help the instinctive “ _What?”_ that the implications of Kix’s statement provoked.

“Kenobi commed Krell in the middle of the last firefight,” Kix continued quietly. “Said that the Capital was too fortified, and that taking a nearby airbase would cut off supply lines to the Umbarans. Krell said the matter was urgent, that we had no time to waste, and he… He ordered us on without you.”

A second cold shock ― stronger this time ― ripped down Ahsoka’s spine and settled in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t help but recall the strange irritation in the Force she had felt from Krell upon her arrival; like her presence was a burden, or worse, a hindrance to some plan of his.

_Does he want me gone?_

Ahsoka shook the thought off almost as swiftly as it settled in. Wrong assumptions led to wrong conclusions. Krell was a _jedi master_ ; there wasn’t even a sliver of a chance that he held any ill will towards her. Yet, the remnants of the sinister conspiracy persisted and the rush of panicked adrenaline still lingered in her bloodstream. She could almost taste the fear of abandonment on her tongue. _That_ was why Rex hadn’t been there. Kix, ever perceptive, seemed to pick up on her thoughts immediately and quickly intercepted them.

“Commander… _Ahsoka_. Rex was upset. More than upset, actually. I reckon that the moment he’s done speaking with Krell, he’ll be looking for you.”

“But who came _back_ for me, Kix?” Ahsoka’s efforts to keep the hurt from her voice were in vain. “Who started shooting?”

Silence. Kix lowered his head, and shame surged through the Force. Fear tinged it all a sickly shade.

“ _Who_ started _shooting?”_

“Fives.”

The ragged sigh that escaped Ahsoka’s lips said nothing of the twisting pain that wracked her chest. It had been _Fives_ who hadn’t lost faith in her; not Rex. _Fives_ who had gone up against Krell; not Rex. For all the years she had served at the captain’s side, not once had he ever…

No, that wasn’t fair. Not at all.

She _couldn’t_ put this on Rex. And Fives ― she owed him her life, not her disappointment. The momentary flash of anger had been a lapse in judgement ― a jump to conclusions that Ahsoka always did her best to avoid. The fact that those emotions had gotten the better of her instantly made her feel uneasy. Like she was losing control of herself. Like the planet was _taking_ the control from her, and it was all she could do to maintain it. Forcing the hurt from her eyes, Ahsoka turned back to Kix. He stiffened noticeably at the return of her attention, appearing to scrape for some sort of explanation and quickly succeeded in finding one.

“We all started shooting after that,” the medic asserted. He had misread her silence. “Even Rex. He―”

“It’s alright, Kix,” Ahsoka replied curtly, waving her hand to silence the medic. She saw his eyes catch on the blaster wound streaking across her shoulder at the motion. “It’s not anyones fault. There’s something about this whole situation that’s _karked_ up, and I can’t let it affect anything. That’s the last thing we need.”

Kix nodded his sentiment but said nothing, his eyes now trained on the newfound injury. Ahsoka twisted to accommodate him, knowing well enough that giving him something to focus on would quell his obvious apprehension.

The chill of bacta swept over Ahsoka’s shoulder as Kix began dressing the wound, but even through the sting of disinfectant, she couldn’t help but notice the tiny tremors that shook the medic’s hands as he worked. He must have been _exhausted._ The thought hurt nearly as much as the bolt to her shoulder did, if not more. The 501st had already lost at least half a dozen squads. Ahsoka didn’t care to think about how many more wounded there were ― how many more men Kix had to patch up, or worse, leave behind.

The light pressure on Ahsoka’s skin paused. Turning back to face Kix, she placed her opposite hand on his shoulder in silent support, suddenly fearful that he had finally had enough. Instead of seeing a distraught expression, however, she realized that the medic’s attention was ― unexpectedly ― elsewhere. Following Kix’s line of sight, Ahsoka watched as the crowd of milling 501st parted, allowing a weary-looking Rex to step through. His tired gaze raked the crowd, before latching onto her almost immediately. The captain came to a full stop.

“Commander,” Rex said, his voice cautious. Behind him, the Umbaran forest seemed to fall silent.

In her peripheral vision, Ahsoka saw Kix shoot her a pleading look. The hand at her shoulder fell. It was as if the medic still expected her to snap at the captain and was silently pleading for her not to. For the sake of Rex or 501st morale, she wasn’t sure. Under any other circumstance, she might’ve ignored Kix completely, but this time, her decision was set. She offered Rex a weak smile. That was all it took.

Rex seemed to deflate, tension easing out of his form and guilt quickly replacing it. He was no longer afraid to talk to her ― now, it appeared, he was more afraid of what she might say.

“Kix,” Rex edged his way out of the crowd and lowered his voice, “would you mind if I…”

Catching his intentions, Kix stood, gave a brisk nod, and held his hand out to Ahsoka. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. Rex also held out an arm, but let it drop the moment she straightened.  

“Is she okay?”

“Minor bruising, sir,” Kix replied, adopting the clipped, no-nonsense tone of a medic. “Two blaster wounds, one on her left shoulder and the other on her right lek. Both minor as well. Some irritation and scraping near the eye, but I wouldn’t worry about it too much. However, there _is_ a deep wound on her left palm that I didn’t get a chance to look over.”

Ahsoka nearly snorted a laugh. Kix never missed _anything._ Even as Rex urged her away, the medic was still looking her over, carefully checking for anything he might have forgotten. A knowing look from Ahsoka, and he gave a wry shrug before turning away to attend to an approaching trooper.

“You didn’t tell me there was a briefing.”

“What?” Rex glanced down at Ahsoka. His tone would have sounded defensive if it hadn’t been for the overwhelming feel of guilt that it carried. Ahsoka couldn’t help the way that her hand shot to his shoulderbell in assurance.

“Kix said you were talking to Krell. Did I miss something?”

Relaxing a fraction, Rex shook his head. “Not much. It was barely anything.”

“Is he mad at me for not being there?”

Again, Rex gave a quaint shake of his head. “You looked pretty out of it when we regrouped. I told him that it would be best if Kix checked on you first.”

Silence fell heavily between them. Vaguely, Ahsoka could hear Fives calling commands, ordering the battalion to fall in behind him. His voice grew closer. Wherever Krell was, it was clear he wasn’t leading the 501st from the front. His presence was practically undetectable, nearly as elusive as the Umbarans themselves. Ahsoka even wagered that she saw the planet’s scavengers on the field more than she saw Krell. A spark of anger simmered in her gut, and her presence of mind drifted further. Krell was _nothing_ like Anakin. _Nothing_ like any of the generals she had encountered before. It bothered her more than she cared to admit.

“Are you alright?”

Ahsoka started slightly as Rex broke the silence, her hand jumping from where it rested on his bicep. Belatedly, she realized realized her fingers had been slowly tightening around his armor. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, and she scrambled to suppress it with the snippiness her master often associated her with.

“What, you don’t trust Kix?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, ‘Soka,” Rex replied, ignoring the bait completely. “I…” He ducked his head, the next few words coming out fumbled and uninterpretable. Ahsoka half-suspected he had done it on purpose.

“You can say it, Rex.” It didn’t matter that she was already sure she knew what he was about to ask. “I’m not gonna reprimand you or anything. Just spit it out.”

Another period of silence weighed heavily on the atmosphere, and Ahsoka had to force herself to take a breath. The quiet sat on her chest like a ton of durasteel, pushing the air from her lungs and bearing down on her heart. It was torture ― to know precisely what was coming, but to still desperately wish for misjudgment. Yet, she knew Rex had to say it, and he did.

“Do you still trust me?”

The tension shattered like glass. That was _exactly_ what Ahsoka had been expecting, but it still didn’t stop her heart from clenching painfully at Rex’s words. Swallowing thickly, she turned to face him.

In the dim light, Rex looked terrible. Small cuts streaked across his face, peppering his chin and the bridge of his nose, and flecks of some mystery substance speckled his forehead ― Ahsoka wasn’t sure if it was dirt or dried blood. Under the muted red glow of the Umbaran forest, he looked devastatingly pale, which only made the minor wounds stand out in vast contrast. What pained her the most, though, was how utterly exhausted he looked ― and how much it seemed like he was trying to hide it. It had only been a _day._ Never had Ahsoka seen Rex so drained in such a short period of time. Whether it was due to the harsh landscape or Krell’s _unintentional_ abuse, it didn’t matter. He, of all people, didn’t deserve this.

Before rational thought could even begin to tell her otherwise, Ahsoka took a broad step forward, cutting in front of Rex and swiveling on her heels to wrap her arms about his midsection. She paid no heed to the way his armor dug into the exposed skin of her forearm, instead focusing on how his breathing altered ― stopping for a second before a long exhale pressed plastoid against her chest.

“Ahsoka.”

Her name sounded vague; she wasn’t sure if Rex had meant it as a statement or a prologue to a question, but frankly, she didn’t care. “Don’t _ever_ ask me that, Rex.”

The plastoid under her cheek expanded again, but this time, she felt the captain shift. Moments later, his arms, which had previously been held stiff at his sides, came cautiously around her back. The grasp was tentative. Ahsoka swore she could feel his hands shaking, but her thoughts were elsewhere, filling with sentiment that clouded her mind like the thick haze she breathed in. The last time she had hugged Rex had been after the Second Battle of Geonosis. She felt he had needed it then, and he _had_. This time, he seemed to need it just as much, if not more, and that hurt in all the wrong places.

“I didn’t have your back.”

Ahsoka shook her head and felt a montral catch against the stubble of his chin. Oddly enough, the sensation banished the lingering feeling of detachment she had been trying so hard to get rid of. “No, Rex. Believe me,” she broke her words with a laugh, “I really did want to be mad at you. But it’s not your fault, and I would prefer if you didn’t try to make yourself think that it is.”

Rex pulled her closer for a fraction of a second before releasing her and taking a step back. One hand remained on her shoulder, and his eyes, reflecting the red of the surrounding flora, searched hers. She could still see the guilt; her heart surged to wipe it away. “This is one hell of a deployment,” Ahsoka tried. “It’s… different. If you want to think about it logically, we can’t let anything get in the way of communication. _Guilt_ gets in the way, alright?”

Rex eyed her with a suspicious sort of stare, but Ahsoka didn’t miss the way the corner of his lips quirked slightly. She urged him on with a wry grin of her own, desperately trying to tear down his defenses. “Come on, admit that I’m right.”

“It’s not a fair competition if you’re in my head, sir.”

“Me?” Ahsoka played along, her smile broadening. “Never. I always play fair.” With one gauntleted hand, she reached up to tenderly pat his cheek in overt playfulness. “Besides, you’re way too easy to read. I don’t even have to use the Force.”

Rex cocked an eyebrow in challenge, and Ahsoka had to double down on her self control to avoid rolling her eyes. To prove her point, she pitched her voice as low as she could and adopted the clones’ telltale accent, throwing in a blatantly, over-the-top guilty tone. “ _Are you alright, little’un?_ ”

“I did _not_ say it like that.”

“It was pretty close.”

“Damn wasn’t.”

“Damn _was_.”

There was a short pause, the atmosphere falling perfectly silent as Rex and Ahsoka stared each other down, each willing the other to crack first. Then a grin ― not nearly as broad as Ahsoka’s had been ― flashed across the captain’s lips. Ahsoka breathed a mental sigh of relief.

“Alright,” Rex said, nudging her shoulder and beginning to walk forward again, “alright. Just this once. But really, Commander, _are_ you okay?”

“Rex…” Ahsoka sighed raggedly, exasperation and disappointment manifesting almost as quickly as it had dissipated seconds earlier. She had _just_ managed to regain sight of the _familiar_ Rex: subtle-humored and resilient, a man focused in battle, albeit consistently overworked ― not this _shell_ he was becoming. His trademark stoicism didn’t even come closer to covering for his true emotions. Now he had just reverted back to…

His chuckle caught her off-guard. “Easy, Commander. Easy. I meant physically this time.”

 _Oh._ Relief and affliction seemed to play cat-and-mouse on this kriffing planet. Ahsoka resisted the urge to fling her arms around his abdomen again as relief relapsed and affliction hightailed it out. “So you _don’t_ trust Kix?”

A half-humored snort answered her. “More like I don’t trust you to tell him the full story.”

“Thanks, Rexster.”

The captain chuckled. “Anytime.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t _believe_ this,” Kix spat, his voice harsh enough to turn the buckets of a nearby group of Torrent. Ahsoka would have flinched away herself if her injured hand hadn’t been so precariously close to one of the medic’s scalpels. “Doesn’t he _think?_ Doesn’t he realize how many bodies I’ve― I’ve―”

“Take it easy,” Jesse countered gently. “No one here’s gonna disagree with you.”

“I don’t care who agrees or disagrees or gives a bantha’s backside, I just wish he’d _think!”_ An aggravated sweep of the medic’s hand, and the scalpel went flying off its carefully balanced position on Kix’s thigh plate. Skip, who had been standing by awkwardly, knelt at lightning speed and scooped up the utensil before it could even touch the ground.

From the looks of it, Skip wasn’t happy about Rex’s briefing either ― no one was, not even Rex. The captain, along with Fives, had retreated to the underbrush, where they appeared to be having a heated debate. The rest of Torrent had been left under the crushing pressure of confusion and dread. Some had even came to Ahsoka, but the plan was as new to her as it was to them; she hadn’t been there when the orders had been given to Rex, but if she had, she _knew_ she would have said something. The orders were needlessly cruel: Torrent Company was to proceed straight up the gorge to the capital, one squad ― divided into three smaller squadrons led by Rex, Fives, and herself ― at a time to accommodate narrow terrain. In such a closed-in area and with limited men, casualties were bound to skyrocket. To make matters worse, Krell was away, somewhere on the ridge above them with the second squad of men ― the _reinforcements_ . The thought that he was _again_ commanding from behind stirred up the fury that had been lying dormant in Ahsoka’s bloodstream since she had arrived on the planet. It was only when Kix had pulled her aside to finish his job that his own anger had ripped through the force with such intensity that it somehow completely extinguished hers.

“Doesn’t he _listen_ ?” Kix yanked a roll of gauze bandage from one of his belt pouches, stuffing a vial of bacta back in with the same fluid motion. “Rex _said_ that we should scout ahead for a more secure route, but kriffing _no_ , I suppose it’d be more _efficient_ to advance by _single squads._ ”

A loud crack of cannonfire in the distance punctuated Kix’s statement. Skip took a step closer to Ahsoka’s side. “Commander.”

Ahsoka looked up, recoiling slightly as Kix pressed the gauze against her open wound with the pad of his thumb. Skip edged forward as if on instinct. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, Skip.”

Skip gave a curt nod before pressing forward with his intended point. “With all due respect, sir, is there nothing we can do?”

“No,” Kix cut in sharply. Skip’s jaw snapped shut. “She _can’t_ countermand a direct order.”

Familiar defiance jutted Ahsoka’s chin forward before she could stop herself. “ _Actually,_ once Rex is done chatting with Fives, _I’ll_ be chatting with _him._ ”

“‘Atta way, Commander,” Jesse laughed, running a hand over his head. Kix only furrowed his eyebrows in concentration and snapped off the loose end of her bandage with his teeth. A bit of adhesive, skillfully applied, secured the wrap in place.

“Thanks, Kix.”

The medic gave a deep sigh and closed her fingers with his own. “If it gets unbearable, come back to me, sir. I’ll take care of you.”

“But hide it again and he’ll probably break your fingers himself,” Jesse deadpanned without skipping a beat.

Skip snorted, and Kix leveled both men with a look that made Ahsoka glad Skip ― and not Kix ― still had the scalpel in hand. With an audible gulp, Jesse vanished into a line of passing clones. A heartbeat later and the medic was brushing past Ahsoka, hands fumbling in his medpack as he approached another group of Torrent. Distantly, she heard his voice, tired, but still alert: “Anyone need a fix?” As she looked on, one of the men begrudgingly offered his arm which ― from afar ― appeared to be a raw red shade, washed violet in the dim light. Kix took the limb in his hands gently, a dutiful air settling around him.

“A medic’s work is never done, huh?”

Ahsoka glanced over at Skip, who had his arms crossed lightly over his chest. His voice sounded resigned, taking on that same wistful tone she had heard before the briefing. It seemed as if Skip was always deep in thought ― an odd trait, especially for a shiny. Ahsoka caught herself studying his expression, catching hints of nostalgia in the Force before he turned and found himself under inspection. Astonishment, then humility shortly thereafter, swept away whatever Ahsoka had previously been sensing from him. Embarrassment tinted her lekku a deep shade of blue.

“Sorry. No Force tricks here. I’m just looking.”

Skip ducked his head, managing a sheepish smile. “What, do I look like someone you know?”

“Why, do you get that a lot?”  

Skip’s resulting laugh was full and, strangely, contagious. Ahsoka found herself grinning, grateful for the rare appearance of genuine humor. She hadn’t seen much of it since she had arrived, with the minor exception of Hardcase’s antics; he always seemed to be amusing himself. Otherwise, the men of the 501st generally seemed exhausted ― beat and fed up, without any time for the usual wisecracks and roughhousing. Skip was a breath of fresh air, but it hurt to think the reasoning was that he had already adapted to such situations ― that _this_ was what he believed normal combat was like, because it was all he had seen as of yet. _This_ was what he thought he had to get used to. Ahsoka’s smile seemed to withdraw itself, bitter black resentment coiling within her.

“What’s wrong, sir? Can you… sense him?”

“What?” Ahsoka blinked, her gaze focusing, and then refocusing on Skip. His laughter had since stopped, and a mildly perturbed expression had taken its place.

“You suddenly seem… less thrilled. Is it because…,” Skip trailed off slowly, his golden eyes flicking upwards and his brow furrowing in confusion ― and then recognition. It took a second for Ahsoka to realize that his attention was no longer on her, but hovering just over her shoulder. As she turned to look, Skip moved with her, taking several broad, purposeful steps and raising an armored hand.

The crack of plastoid against plastoid whirled Ahsoka around, gaze snapping to where Skip had stepped into the path of a furious-looking Fives. His hand was placed square in the middle of the ARC’s chest plate, halting him completely.

_Oh. That was what he had meant._

Realizing what Skip had been referring to, she quickly honed in to the anger radiating from Fives as he seemed to rear up over the younger trooper, pulling himself to his full height. The double pauldrons raised as he squared his shoulder, and even though Ahsoka subconsciously knew Fives would never lay a finger on another clone, she flinched, almost expecting him to shove Skip away, or worse ― strike him.

“Steady on, Fives.” Skip lowered his hand cautiously. “I know that look.”

Fives opened his mouth, defense written all over his posture, and Ahsoka decidedly intervened before Fives could lash out verbally.

“Fives.”

Tendrils of irritation writhed unpleasantly from the ARC, snaking past her shields. The thought struck her that Skip may well have prevented Fives from carrying out something _very_ rash.

“‘S no use, Commander,” Fives snapped, scrubbed his gloved hands over his face, and then down the back of his neck. “We’re going through with it. The men down here are the first squad. We’ll be facing the toughest resistance, the most casualties… We’ll be lucky if Torrent still _exists_ after this.”

“Where’s Rex?” Ahsoka narrowed her eyes.

“Right here, sir.”

Stepping out from beneath Fives’ frame, Ahsoka’s gaze snagged on Rex, approaching from the underbrush, bucket braced between his hip and right arm. With an exasperated huff, Ahsoka placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head impatiently.

“Explain, please.”

Fives gave a self-satisfied snort, but Rex, predictably, paid no heed to the reaction, instead crossing his arms over his chest and slowing each word deliberately. “ _Orders_ are _orders._ I don’t agree with this as much as anyone else, but we don’t have _time_ for anything else.”

“Time doesn’t matter if we end up retreating again,” came Fives’ simple response.

Ahsoka glanced sharply at him, oddly unsettled by the matter-of-fact tone he had adopted. The complete lack of emotion or defiance made him sound detached from the situation ― and his regard for rank. Rex also seemed taken aback, but expressed it in a far different manner: a stare that spoke only of stoic disapproval and tired aggravation. With a low grunt, the ARC shook his head, yanking his helmet down over his face. His voice came out low and gruff, tinny through the helmet’s voice modifiers.

“I’m going to find my squadron.”

Skip followed quietly after Fives, shooting Ahsoka one last unsure glance before flipping the scalpel in his hand and heading off towards Kix. She watched him go, lips drawn tight in an unreadable expression.

A few feet in front of her, Rex shifted uncomfortably. “Sir, I’m sorry. I _tried._ There’s nothing I could say that would change his mind.”

“Who?” Ahsoka asked tersely, although it didn’t sound much like a question. “Fives or Krell?”

“Commander.”

“Rex, I’m not mad at you. I just…,” She balled her fist and pressed knuckles to her teeth. “I just wish I had been there when the decision was made. Maybe he would’ve listened to me.”

“Would he have?”

It was a weaponized question, and a cleverly timed one at that. He knew as well as she did that they were both outranked, and Krell’s words were commands to them ― non-negotiable, unlike their partnership with Anakin. Then, there was the question of whether Krell really respected her or not, although she had a sinking feeling that she already knew the answer.

“We’ll just see this one through, sir,” Rex said, a gentle response to her sudden silence. “If this doesn’t work, then… Well…”

“I know. We’ll figure it out.”

Rex uttered a long-suffering sigh, his gaze drifting unbeckoned over to Torrent. Thin lines of stress creased his forehead, and Ahsoka tried not to think of the immense pressure that he was under, lest she remember her own circumstances. Torrent was his _personal_ responsibility. The 501st was hers.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t wanna stage a coup?” She tried, managing a sad excuse for a smile.

Rex turned his head towards her slightly, just managing to catch her regard over his shoulder. He appeared to study her for a second, almost apologetically. That, along with the knowledge of the inevitable battle that was bound to occur, made Ahsoka feel utterly useless. It took immense willpower to keep her shoulders from slumping in on themselves ― and ever more control to keep from pulling out her comm right then and giving Krell a piece of her mind. Instead, however, she returned Rex’s gaze with a curt nod, and nothing more. Equally wordless, the captain pulled on his helmet, the telltale jaig eyes transforming him from Rex to Captain within seconds. The fatigue seemed to vanish, replaced with confidence and apathetic assuredness, and although Ahsoka knew it was just a guise, it was crystal clear that Captain Rex was back in command mode.

 

* * *

 

“Everybody, stay alert,” Fives barked, his voice carrying across the flat landscape. “Fingers on the trigger.”

From her position at the head of her squadron, Ahsoka could barely make out the shadowy silhouettes of the men near the rear of her group, let alone those in Fives’ or Rex’s. The troopers simply seemed to blend into the haze, fading in and out of visibility like gunships in cloudcover. There was simply no distinguishing one man from the other ― the only elements allowing Ahsoka to point out Fives or Rex were their pauldrons, bobbing sleepily through the mist.

The consistent mechanical whir- _thunk_ of the AT-RT’s also seemed to mix in with the haze, but in a much more subtle manner. It was hypnotizing in a way that only made the atmosphere more bizarre; the whole scene felt surreal, almost dream-like, but in the menacing sense of a subconscious image about to morph into a nightmare.

“Jesse,” Ahsoka brought her voice down to a hushed whisper, turning slightly to look for the trooper who was acting as her second. He sauntered up to her side, blaster pulled tightly against his chest.

“Yes, sir?”

“Is your night vision on?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And there’s no tank tracks or footprints or anything?”

There was a pregnant pause as Jesse first scanned the path, then the underbrush around them. “Nothing, sir.”

Ahsoka shook her head, pursing her lips. It was _too_ quiet. _Too_ peaceful. When the 501st had traveled the main roads, as ordered by Krell, there had always been some sign of life ― a drag mark, deep ruts, occasionally a footprint. Here, there was nothing. The soil was silk-smooth and powdery, unapologetically untouched.

“This isn’t right.” Ahsoka’s hands tightened anxiously over the hilts of her lightsabers on either hip. “Jesse, I don’t like this.”

“It’s no walk in the park, that’s for sure,” came the hesitant answer. “And I happen to like those.”

A barely audible laugh ― more of a nervous tic than anything ― bubbled skittishly from her throat, and Jesse gave a low grunt. “How about you, sir? Can you see alright?”

“Probably not as well as you, although Togrutan night vision isn’t terrible. But…,” Ahsoka frowned, tilting her head slightly ― an action that Jesse no doubt recognized as a listening habit. He fell silent, allowing her to sharpen the reflex with a touch of the Force. Oddly enough, a minute buzzing seemed to reverberate through her montrals. It wasn’t tonal; not at all the outlandish hum of Umbaran crafts that she had grown accustomed to hearing. It was more _staticky,_ interrupted by rather harsher, rocky sounds, as if someone had held a mic up and was lightly scratching the surface with their nail. Even stranger was that the sound felt like it was approaching from _below_.

“Hold,” Ahsoka hissed, pulling her hand up level to her shoulder in a fist. Behind her, her squadron froze. The robotic rhythm of the AT-RT’s came to a sudden stop. To both her left and right, Fives and Rex held up the same signal, their buckets turned in her direction, watching.

 _How in the_ fek _was she supposed to tell them that the danger wasn’t above ground?_ She couldn’t tell them to aim at the dirt, because _kriffing hells_ , the situation was already strange as it was. The sound grew ever closer, and Ahsoka’s heart rate picked up tenfold. Maybe if she―

The screech of an Umbaran banshee predator tore a sharp gasp from Ahsoka’s chest and she reeled back, nearly slamming into Jesse’s cuirass. His hands came around her shoulders instantly, and she heard his breath catch, along with the sound of at least two dozen blasters whipping around. Neon green streaked the shadowy sky, and visors lifted upwards, watching the banshees swoop past. Ahsoka’s rapidly pounding heart didn’t allow her to feel mortified, even as Rex turned from his squad to check on her.

“They look spooked,” someone from Fives’ squad was murmuring, visor reflecting distorted lines of fluorescent green and red as he followed the banshees’ trail through the sky. He wasn’t wrong; the predators _were_ moving faster than normal. Perhaps they, too, had picked up on the vibrations ― the vibrations, which were now nearly deafening, almost loud enough to physically hear.

 _No._ She _could_ physically hear them, and from the looks of it, so could the clones.

A sound as sharp and as loud as a thunderclap suddenly shook the earth, and the vibrations peaked, sending dizzying waves through Ahsoka’s montrals. Around her, the men braced, knees bent, blasters drawn.

Ahsoka barely managed to pick up on Hardcase’s confused _“What the―”_ before _something_ erupted from the ground with an ear-piercing shriek. Bits of rock and dirt were hurled into the air, raining back down on the gathered squadrons as the _thing kept_ _emerging,_ twisting meter after meter, screaming its two-toned mechanical cry and blotting out the darkened sky with its massive form. It took a moment for Ahsoka to identify it as some sort of artificial centipede, and as its head arched and it bore down on Torrent Company, she caught a glimpse of an Umbaran soldier through the intense blue glow of its single eye.

_“Blast it!”_

Laserfire split the air, slamming into the belly of the tank. Ahsoka watched in horrified fascination as mechanical legs squirmed, accompanied by an erratic ticking sound of moving joints. Again, the tank reared up on the last few pairs of its hind legs, swinging back and forth as green laserfire fanned out from its back in a manner that reminded Ahsoka of Geonosians swarming from a hive. It took a moment for her to realize that it had rotary cannons fixed onto its spine, except they weren’t _hitting_ anything.

Then, the tank fell.

Rows and rows of legs slammed into the previously untouched dirt, rattling the earth beneath Ahsoka’s feet. Waves of Torrent fell back, scattering into the underbrush in a desperate attempt to get out from under the tank’s shadow. Men disappeared from Ahsoka’s flank, crushed under the multitude of metallic feet; she herself just managed to dive to the left, slipping through a pair of legs to avoid being trampled.

Now parallel to the ground, the afixed cannons were overwhelming. Green bolts picked off the men that hadn’t yet found cover, and the sudden introduction of another tank to the west made the aspect of defense extremely difficult. Ahsoka barely managed to yank out her shoto to deflect a bolt as it flew dangerously close to her head, a second crossing its path an instant later.

“Look out!”

Ahsoka spun in the direction of the cry, just in time to see a third tank explode from the ground, the first bolt fired from its forward cannons finding a direct hit to the chest of the ARF trooper who had shouted the warning. Her heart sank. Ducking low to the dirt and sprinting across the exposed area to the underbrush where the ARF lay, Ahsoka twisted her fingers under the rim of the man’s helmet and pulled, revealing a blank face. He was already gone.

Another yell, and a second AT-RT pilot went down to her right. This time, however, Ahsoka turned in the opposite direction and made to regroup with her squadron, pulling her wrist commlink up to her lips as she ran.

“Jesse, report!”

Static crackled across the comm before the link opened up, a distorted explosion ripping through the channel in sync with one that went off to her left. “Here, sir. We’ve lost a confirmed seven, six more―” a second explosion came across, and this time, Ahsoka saw the mushroom cloud come up in a plume of blue ― “six more unresponsive.”

 _Thirteen? Already?_ With a sharp curse, Ahsoka pulled the comm away and sprinted through the thick underbrush towards the ridge ahead. Blue flames licked the top of the hill, casting long shadows of the retreating men in Fives’ squadron down the descent. Gathered near the base of the ridge, she could see the ARC himself.

“Fives!”

Fives glanced up from where he had been shouting orders into his comm, taking a second to wave her towards him. A flash of green, and the man at his side went down in a smoking heap. Another quickly replaced him, returning fire.

“The heads are ray-shielded, Commander.” Fives leaned deftly to his right as a cluster of laserfire zipped past his helmet. “We need rocket launchers!”

“My heavy artillery’s been decimated,” Ahsoka hissed.

“Mine, too. Rex is on it.”

“Where is he?”

“Over the ridge.” As if to demonstrate, a third explosion flared up from behind the hill, wisps of violet smoke curling over the blue flames that tore across the top of the ascent. “Jesse should be there, too.”

Tipping Fives a quick, two fingered salute, Ahsoka spun away from him and scrambled up the ridge, fingers raw on the rocky terrain. Subconsciously, she felt her hand tear open again, the cool metal of her lightsaber becoming a persistent sting against the bleeding cut. Her true focus, however, was on the line of blue flames that stretched across the entirety of the hill’s peak ― too inconvenient to look for a detour. Shoving fear to the furthermost corner of her mind, Ahsoka bore through them, heat scorching her exposed flesh for a second before the hill seemed to give, opening up beneath her feet. For one terrifying instant, she believed she had blindly hurled herself over the edge of some drop, but moments later, her boots slammed into rock and she threw herself into a controlled roll, tucking her head between her knees until she felt the ground even out.

Her comm crackled again as she forced herself to her feet.

“We see you, Commander,” came Jesse’s strained voice. “Hold on.”

Through the fog, a figure ― an ARF, judging by the helmet ― was running towards her, leg restrained by a slight limp. Ahsoka jogged up to meet him, holding out an arm as offered support.

“ _Fek,_ Commander,” came Skip’s breathless voice. “Where were you?”

Ahsoka couldn’t stop the relieved grin that spread across her face. “Other side of the ridge. I _was_ with the other quarter of our squadron.”

Skip gratefully accepted her arm. “Where are they?”

“I…”

“Nevermind. We’ll find out later.”

“And your AT-RT?”

“Nevermind that, too. You’ll find out later.”

Ahsoka gave a half-humored snort as Jesse came running over, blaster poised. “We’ve got to _move_ ,” he barked. Skip’s weight was pulled entirely off her shoulders, and Jesse surged forward, the ARF practically dragging behind him. A not-so-distant metallic tone, and Ahsoka immediately realized why.

Shrouded by the haze, silhouettes of troopers were sprinting full-force in her direction, rocket launchers hefted over their shoulders. Nearly at their heels, a tank was tearing through the underbrush, laserfire spitting from the cannons along its back. Freezing dread shot down Ahsoka’s spine as she watched two men make a wild dash across the tank’s path, the luminescent orb eye of the machine’s front defining their panicked forms like a nerf caught in front of a speeder. It was only when the first man went down, trampled beneath the tank’s multitude of legs, that Ahsoka impulsively sprung into action, activating her lightsaber and shoto and racing towards the remaining trooper, tackling him with all the force she could muster.

The man went down easily under her weight, dropping heavily to the dirt as she came down hard on his back, her legs straddling either side of his waist. Her plan to yank him out of the way was demolished by the tank’s sheer proximity, and for a moment, Ahsoka blanked. They were practically under the tank, the metallic underbelly swerving to pierce steel legs through flesh and armor― Ahsoka’s arms jerked up thoughtlessly, bright green blades crossing in a scissored X protruding before her face.

The first leg severed cleanly, momentum throwing the smoldering piece into her lap. Beneath her, the clone made a choked cry. The next several legs caught in the same V-shaped groove, each forcing Ahsoka’s arms back a fraction of an inch until the backs of her hilts were pressed flush to her cheeks. The erratic ticking of the legs surrounded her, the pressure against her blades burning into her biceps. Then, the tank swerved. The last leg that her sabers caught offset the positioning of her wrists, yanking her hips around as the tank trot off, leaning to the left.

“Are you alright, trooper?” Ahsoka asked, staggering to her feet. The man gave a wordless nod, his visor reflecting the crumpled form of the first clone some distance away. Hardcase was already positioned at his side, dust settling from an obvious skid. As Ahsoka watched, the man pushed his rocket launcher into the hands of the heavy gunner, uttering a forced “Take it, _take it_.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Hardcase replied softly, his voice overlapping with Kix’s as the medic seemed to materialize from the underbrush.

“I got him.” Kix hooked his hands under the arms of the injured trooper. “Hang on.” The clone let out a reedy, pained cry and the medic dragged him back towards cover, a thin trail of blood smearing from his skidplate across the ground. For a second, Hardcase froze, helmet set on his brother’s blood; Ahsoka opened her mouth to call out to him, but Rex ― _somehow_ ― was already there, ushering him on with a single hand.

“Go, _go, go go!”_

The trance snapped. Hardcase shot up, hauling the rocket launcher over his shoulder and darting off towards the ridge. “Keep moving, _keep moving!”_ Rex yelled after him, stooping down to pull an arm around the trooper at Ahsoka’s side. The man gave a low grunt but came up without protest, limping along at a jog as the captain helped him up the ascent. Ahsoka, rationally, slipped ahead, taking Hardcase’s left flank as he slid down the ridge. Fives fell in on her left, twin deecees firing off rapidly before he tucked into a roll, slipping behind a covering trunk. Ahsoka ducked in after him, deflecting a few stray bolts that zipped past her right lek.

Down the gorge, Ahsoka could see the front eye of a tank bobbing through the mist, the mechanical ticking now slightly off. It must have been the tank she had damaged, then, coming back around. Scrunching her nose in unconscious annoyance, she inched out towards the edge of the trunk. _It was time to finish this._ Waving a hand at Hardcase, who was sitting a few feet away under the cover of some local plant mass, she held up a count of three.

 _Three._ The tank rattled around a bend in the path, affixed cannons swinging freely to fire at fleeing troopers.

 _Two_. She could see the Umbaran soldier now, hunched over the controls. Hardcase locked the launcher over his shoulder. Fives leaned closer to her side.

 _One._ With a snappy two-fingered point from Ahsoka, Hardcase slid out from behind his cover, braced on one knee, and fired.

Fountains of brilliant blue burst from the front of the tank and it reared up on its hind legs, pitching to the side from the force of the impact. Legs whirred against empty air in a struggle for purchase, and the two-toned screech split the atmosphere, causing Ahsoka to clap her hands over the sides of her montrals. A burst of orange, and the tank smashed back down, spitting sparks and shrapnel as the combustion leaped from section to section. Fives barely managed to yank Ahsoka away before, in a cloud of turquoise lightning, the front of the tank pummeled into their covering trunk ― and Hardcase’s.

Ahsoka hit the ground hard enough to send jolts of electricity up through her elbows and into her shoulders. The agonizing pain, however, only urged her forward as she crawled on her stomach back into the heaving pile of debris without a moment’s rest.

“Commander!” Fives was yelling for her now, but she paid no heed. The Force was writhing in red hot pain that wasn’t her own. From the depths of twisted metal and broken flora, it undoubtedly _could_ have been the Umbaran pilot but it _wasn’t._ She _knew_ it wasn’t. This presence was familiar.

“Hardcase.” The name came out a dry rasp, inaudible through the creaking metal of the downed tank, so Ahsoka swallowed thickly and tried again. “Hardcase!”

Silence.

Ahsoka dragged herself further, past the crumpled innards of the tank. Just barely, by the blue light dripping from the shattered eye of the vehicle, she could see _something:_ a figure, armored and motionless, with―

The air left Ahsoka’s lungs like she had been tossed from an airlock. The body was Hardcase ― she could see that now, judging from the lines and dots trailing his helmet and cuirass, but it was the jagged piece of shrapnel that was the true source of her shock. It was a leg: the tank leg, with the tip torn to bare a razor sharp point that had punched straight through the heavy gunner’s plastoid chest armor ― directly into the center of his torso.

“Hardcase!”

Hardcase stayed motionless. Unresponsive, not even offering the twitch of a finger. Twisting around at the hip, Ahsoka fought to keep the tremors from her voice. “ _Fives!”_

Distantly, she heard the ARC’s voice, accompanied by the creak of shifting metal. “Here, sir!”

“Get Kix!” She swallowed hard, forcing back bile. “We need a medic. _We need a medic!_ ”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kix had told Ahsoka what to do with a puncture wound more times than she could count. Step-by-step, time and time again, the medic had drilled procedure into her head like a mantra, repeating it enough that it became a running joke. The infamous Step One always served as the punchline: “Never remove the intrusion. Never. You could do some serious damage.”
> 
> Yet, as Ahsoka looked down at the protruding mess of metal in Hardcase’s chest, her hands forgot all that Kix had taught her, and thoughtlessly, she pulled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my GOD it's been two months I'm so sorry that this still sounds rushed.

Kix had told Ahsoka what to do with a puncture wound more times than she could count. Step-by-step, time and time again, the medic had drilled procedure into her head like a mantra, repeating it enough that it became a running joke. The infamous Step One always served as the punchline: “ _Never_ remove the intrusion. _Never._ You could do some serious damage.”

On an off day, Ahsoka would ask a sullen Kix if he was upset because he had removed the intrusion, barely getting the line out before she lost her composure. Any complex medical inquiry that he shared, similarly, would be met with her faux-serious question, “Did you remove the intrusion?” Kix, on the other hand, was much more straightforward, and an eye-roll on Ahsoka’s behalf always left him sighing good-naturedly. His reminders were common knowledge. She knew them by heart. Yet, as Ahsoka looked down at the protruding mess of metal in Hardcase’s chest, her hands forgot all that Kix had taught her, and thoughtlessly, she pulled.

“No, no. No, no, _no! No!”_

The words fell frantic from Ahsoka’s mouth, coming out slurred and messy. Blood seeped from between her fingers as she pressed her palm to the cool plastoid of Hardcase’s cuirass, nails stained crimson. Still, the heavy gunner didn’t budge, and the red-hot pain she had felt from him amidst the metallic wreck of the impeding tank had dulled significantly.

Perhaps in any other situation, the retreating pain would have been a good sign, but here, it served as a ticking time bomb. Hardcase was drifting ― too far gone to project, and too dazed to feel anything but fatigue. Once the pain vanished completely, he had mere seconds. With an exasperated sigh, Ahsoka dug her fingers into the armor over his abdomen, prying the pieces off as efficiently as she could manage. The more layers removed, the faster Kix could get at the wound. It was the least she could do now, and it would make things significantly easier for the medic once he arrived.

“ _C―mmand―r?_ ”

Ahsoka’s fingers halted momentarily from where they had been scrambling to remove Hardcase’s flexible stomach plates. Through the faint crackling of static and voices, the comm on her wrist chirped, casting a faint blue light across her face as the signal dipped out, blinking once. Twice. Shadows danced along the twisted steel behind her, orbs of red projected through the blood speckling the commscreen. The artificial hues mingled with the iridescence of the destroyed tank before the signal connected again, projecting Fives’ voice into the air.

_“Sir, are you there?”_

“Here, Fives.” Another flush of blood, as if the wound had opened further, and Ahsoka’s pulse kicked into overdrive. “Please tell me Kix’s coming.”

_“I… No.”_

The words didn’t register. They _couldn’t._ Ahsoka doubled down and kept talking. “Good, tell him we’re under the tank. He might have to crawl, but it should be safe.”

_“Commander.”_

“I would set up a flare, but I don’t know how flammable this stuff is.”

_“Sir.”_

“He can look for―”

_“Commander, he’s not coming.”_

The words, spoken sharply and with astonishing clarity, finally connected, and a wave of unexpected nausea slammed into Ahsoka with dizzying force, dragging a strained _“What?”_ from her throat. The situation had just spiraled out of control. She was _trapped_ ; couldn’t leave Hardcase, couldn’t get a medic _without_ leaving him, but without a medic, he assuredly would die. Something similar to panicked claustrophobia tore into her lungs, and her breath hitched noticeably.

She was cornered.

A primal, almost maternal mentality seized her, gripping her lungs and _squeezing_. Eyes flicking down to Hardcase’s bloodied form, then back to her comm, Ahsoka bore down on Fives with a frigid tone she hadn’t realized she possessed.

“ _Explain,_ Fives. Hardcase is _dying._ He’s _impaled_ , and you _won’t send a medic?”_

_“Sir, Kix is up to his neck in injured right now, and we’re pinned.”_

“And where did _you_ go?”

 _“I went to find him.”_ Fives’ answer sounded vaguely accusatory, tense until he seemed to catch himself. _“I commed Krell instead, to ask for a squadron of medics from squad two up on the ridge. He―”_ There was a pause, before Fives’ voice came back, faint and distant, as if he had lowered his comm and was speaking to someone else. _“We’re safe for the moment, but they’ll be coming around any second.”_

“Fives?” Ahsoka hissed, fingers twisting under another of Hardcase’s plates.

Silence carried across the channel, excruciating enough that Ahsoka drew in and held a long breath. Then, Rex’s voice came through, equally faint, although recognizably authoritative and confident. _“Bring up the launchers. Spread detonators along that corridor, trap them into the bottleneck. We’re gonna blow those things sky-high.”_

A vague muffled sound, and Fives’ ragged breathing returned, overloud in the silence of the tank’s innards. _“Sorry, sir. As I was saying―”_ a second pause, as the beeping of set detonators filled the line, _“―I requested a second squad of medics, but he denied the request.”_

“ _What,_ why?”

 _“He said―”_ A gurgling breath from Hardcase drowned out the rest of Fives’ words, and Ahsoka stiffened. The lingering pain in the Force had now vanished completely. Hardcase’s time was up; she had to act now, or it would be too late to do much of anything besides make his death as comfortable as she possibly could.

That, she decided, was one thing she wasn’t ready to do.

Not even bothering to close the comm channel, Ahsoka reached out ― not physically, lest her hands leave the gaping wound in Hardcase’s abdomen ― and grasped for the Force. At first, it was evasive, slipping through her fingers like grains of fine sand, darting just beyond her reach before dissipating into thin air. The reasoning was obvious. She wasn’t focused; that was given, but under so much pressure and with such heavy conflict lurking in her mind, not much could be done. Ironic, Ahsoka thought, that if this hadn’t been Hardcase, she most likely would have succeeded by now ― but because this was a man she had fought alongside for years, the situation had much more weight, to the point where she was nearly panicking.

Ahsoka didn’t know _when_ she had closed her eyes, but they were shut tight now, with such ferocity that she could feel her entire face contorting in effort. The hand on Hardcase’s chest shook furiously, muscles protesting with fatigue, but even then, she still couldn’t grasp the Force. It was infuriating. The heavy gunner’s breathing only seemed to slow, the rise and fall of his chest becoming vague and shallow ― yet, she couldn’t _help_ , couldn’t _feel._ She wasn’t focused, wasn’t centered, wasn’t―

It had been ten seconds, and Hardcase hadn’t taken a breath. Beneath the damp give under her fingers, Ahsoka could feel his chest stuttering, as if he was trying to inhale but couldn’t. Sheer panic quickly sharpened into intricate focus, then further, into realization.

 _Collapsed lungs._ Something in Ahsoka’s mind latched onto the familiarity of the term. _It was collapsed lungs._

Yes. She _knew_ how to fix this. She had used the Force to treat it more than once in many of her men, both on and off the battlefield; she just had to _focus._ Easing the tension out of her shoulders and soothing the stress lines that creased her face, Ahsoka steadied her hand on Hardcase’s chest and inhaled deeply. Fabric dampened beneath her hand as plastoid shuddered against an unsteady gasp. Just barely, the feel of the Force returned, surging through her fingertips, sporadic but there all the same.

Ahsoka clung to the procedure she knew by heart and pressed forward.

In her mind’s eye, she could see tissue melding back, could see blood resuming circulation, cells coming together and healing. Muscle connected, expanding outwards from where it had collapsed, just enough to draw in half of a full breath. It wouldn’t be comfortable, Ahsoka realized absentmindedly, but it would have to do. Already, her arm felt numb, utterly drained and overly exerted. Force healing arguably took more effort and concentration than anything else ― more meticulous and prolonged than a Force push or pull. With everything that had been happening, Ahsoka knew she’d been lucky to center herself as well as she had; if anything, it’d be odd-defying if she managed to pull off a feat like this for the remainder of the deployment, let alone for any other mission in the future.

Hardcase’s wound, thankfully, was as familiar as it could get. A collapsed lung was critical, but Asoka was accustomed to it. Anything else, and the situation could've undoubtedly been much worse.

A sharp inhale drew Ahsoka’s attention back down to the heavy gunner’s contorted expression. Dipping between semi-consciousness and oblivion, Hardcase’s hand clutched desperately at her bracer, hanging on for all that he was worth. His wound had kept her grounded ― she had succeeded because of it. Her struggle was over. The worst had passed for him, as well, but judging from the detached, primal panic tearing through the Force, he wasn’t yet aware of it.

“Easy, Hardcase,” Ahsoka said, her voice coming out rasped and wavering through the exhaustion, as if she had just woken up from a nap after hours of shouting commands. “You can breathe. I promise.”

“ _C― C―,_ ” Came Hardcase’s choked reply, the sound barely carrying past bluish lips. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, but his gaze was spacey and disoriented, irises dilating and constricting against the fading light of the tank’s innards before rolling back into his head.

“It’s Ahsoka,” Ahsoka tried again, helplessness contracting her throat painfully. “Just relax and stay with me. We’re gonna get you out in no time.”

No response, although the hand on her bracer tightened a fraction.

“That’s it. I’m right here, trooper. Kix is on his way. Just hold on. Rex is… Rex is...”

 _Rex. Torrent. Kriff._ The last she had heard from them was the through Fives, seconds before she had tuned him out to focus on Hardcase. Her comm was silent now. The ARC had cut the signal. Desperation turned Ahsoka’s blood to ice, and she glanced forlornly down at the piece, embedded in the bracer that the heavy gunner now clutched tightly to his chest. Hells, she would never forgive herself if she pulled away from him now.

_Kriff._

She needed a plan B, preferably as soon as possible. Now was not the time to get lazy. If she had to absolutely obliterate her limits to get in contact with her men, so be it. Hardcase needed her just as much as she needed Torrent.

Tilting her chin slightly to the left, Ahsoka reluctantly called on her tattered focus, relying on her montrals for a sense of her squadron’s situation. The rapid clicking of the horrid Umbaran impeding tanks found her first, setting her flesh alight with crawling chills. If she never saw one of those _things_ again in her life, it would still be too soon. It was, however, what at first sounded like a chorus of sharp clone yells, that truly disturbed her, nearly bringing a wave of bitter bile to the back of her throat.

But then she listened closer.

_“Come and get us!”_

_“Over here!”_

_“Hey!”_

_“Come on, ol’ boy, over here!”_

Ahsoka picked up a trilling cheer, followed by several unintelligible cries all mingled together in raucous unison. They weren’t cries of pain. On the contrary, they were teasing ― _taunting_ . Taunting _what?_ Ahsoka’s browline knitted together as she straightened, leaning forward in a subconscious effort to better hear her men. Even then, she was at a loss; the idea was to avoid drawing attention, not to―

A deafening explosion ripped through Ahsoka’s still-sensitized montrals as she strained to distinguish one voice from another, sending a current of white-hot pain streaking through her head like a high-powered blaster bolt. The edges of her vision blurred red, the pain pulsing to a climax and tearing an inaudible scream from Ahsoka’s chest. Instinct immediately urged her to do _something_ , anything to draw her focus away from _hearing. Sensing._ So she did, throwing herself over Hardcase’s still form in an act of blatant, unthinking protection.

The mangled tank creaked with the shuddering force of the explosion, the metallic screeching of joints against plating warning of collapse.

_Stang, they’d be buried alive if the thing fell._

It was a detached thought, separate from the quaking chaos that surrounded Ahsoka. The tone of it, if she were to have voiced it aloud, was not at all panicked. Time seemed to suspend itself now, the explosion roaring on second after second. Nothing truly seemed real. All she could do was wait ― press herself closer to Hardcase and breathe. If the tank collapsed, then it would collapse. Until then, matters were out of her control.

Squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her teeth against the rattling tremors, Ahsoka stilled and waited ― listened to the grinding explosion, to Hardcase’s labored breathing, to the creaking tank, and her own heartbeat. Seconds marched on. The sounds dulled, muffled to tired hearing. Tones rose and fell, rhythms persisted, inhales followed exhales ― until there was nothing left but silence.

Silence, and then Kix’s voice.

 

* * *

 

“We’ve got a problem.”

Ahsoka almost didn’t want to hear it; the warning in Rex’s voice as he peered through his scopes said enough ― that, and the steady, mechanical thump of something heavy moving along the topsoil.

She was tired of all this. Even as the first glowing orb ― similar to that of an Umbaran fighter’s ― came soaring out of the dark haze and into the midst of Torrent, she was _exhausted._ Physically, of course, but emotionally as well. The remaining impeding tanks had just gone down mere minutes prior to this new encounter, and already, she was face-to-face with another nightmare.

“Fall back! Fall back _now!_ ”

Fives’ voice was shrill and fierce, only adding to the chaos as Torrent scattered like a pack of spooked nuna. Ahsoka barely managed to catch a glimpse of the new tanks as she turned to sprint for cover. Her attempts to decipher where the shadows ended and the machines began, however, were in vain. All she could tell was that the things were _colossal,_ towering above the Umbaran fauna. Long cannons topped the heads of the tanks, and plated feet, nearly as thick as a gunship, tore through the terrain after the fleeing squadron.

Some distance behind her, a vague tinkling sound, oddly resembling an off-toned music box, gave way to two ground-shattering explosions. Dirt bit at Ahsoka’s exposed arms, undoubtedly kicked up from where the orbs had landed, and moments later, a stinging weight slammed into her back, heaving her face first into the ground. The fall left her skidding a good few inches forward, sediment digging into her forehead and nose before her hands fumbled to pull herself out from under the dead weight. She didn’t bother to look back, but even that didn’t stop her from spying the heap of white plastoid that lay motionless where she had fallen.

Around Ahsoka, the rest of Torrent scrambled for cover. Every few seconds, an orb would come flying from the tank cannons and impact the ground with such force that men were blown off their feet, thrown past her as she slid between a mess of overhanging roots. The surrounding flora provided adequate protection, but it still wasn’t enough. She was contributing _nothing._ Since the impeding tanks had shown face, her lightsabers had proven to be useless against heavy firepower. To add insult to injury, the lack of her comm ― still stuck into the bracer she had been forced to leave in Hardcase’s unbreakable grip ― left her unable to command from long distances. All she seemed to be good for now was her use of the Force, although her earlier efforts with Hardcase had rendered it nearly ineffective.

Drained as she was, she could barely sense Rex’s presence before he, along with a large portion of Torrent, scattered into the covering area around her. The captain himself swerved into a spot directly to her left, pressing his back against the trunk behind them with such hurriedness that Ahsoka could hear plastoid creak. Shadows of passing men drifted across his armor as he brought his arm up to his helmet, the bright, pure white of his comm indicating an incoming call. Ahsoka could barely make out the words through the rumble of cannonfire, but the gruff tone that split the air was indicative enough.

“Captain,” Krell’s voice barked through the channel, “continue your attack!”

Ahsoka suppressed the urge to snap back at the general right then and there. Instead, she shot Rex a narrow-eyed look, which he promptly ignored, shaking his head and raising the comm further. The urgency in his voice disturbed Ahsoka more than she cared to admit. “Sir, we’re overpowered. We need reinforcements.”

“The rest of the battalion is holding the entrance to the gorge, Captain. They’re guarding it so your troops can break through to the airbase!”

A brilliant green explosion punctuated the statement, throwing Rex into Ahsoka’s side. The two of them fell to the dirt, the captain just barely catching himself on a scraggly piece of the nearby trunk in order to keep himself from landing directly on top of her. Closer to the impact zone, Fives had practically imprinted himself into the tree, pressed flat against the leathery flesh of the trunk. Jesse crouched at his feet, while Skip, half-exposed to the blast, went sprawling.

“Sir, you can’t _possibly_ ―” Rex began as Ahsoka started to her feet towards the fallen ARF, only to freeze as Krell cut him off sharply.

“You must stand your ground! _Do you read me, 7567?_ ”

_Hells._

Ahsoka saw red.

Using all the energy she had been gathering to haul herself up, she came down on Rex, poised like a serpent ready to strike. Her hands fumbled with the captain’s vambrace, yanking his comm towards her in an effort to snarl something ― _anything_ ― at Krell. Rex, however, fought back for all that he was worth, tugging his arm close to his chest and locking his muscles. Just barely, through the deafening rush of blood in her ears, Ahsoka heard the choked, “Commander, _no._ ” It came too late to register. _She just had to get to Krell._

The struggle morphed into a near wrestling match, plastoid and leather rasping against the dirt. When Ahsoka’s vision finally cleared, she found her fingers attempting to pry Rex’s comm from its fixed slot, Rex’s hand pressed firmly over her own while Krell’s voice continued to echo from the piece. Ahsoka belatedly realized he had been barking commands throughout the entire struggle.

“Captain! _Are you listening?_ Do _not_ pull back! _That is an order!_ ” A second later, and the signal cut out abruptly, leaving the space between Rex and Ahsoka silent and strained.

Through his helmet, Rex appeared to meet Ahsoka’s eyes over the still-raised bracer, the black polarized material of his visor reflecting her own disgruntled expression. It was then, and only then, that Ahsoka realized that she had been _wrestling_ with her _captain_ over his comm. The realization sunk in like a freezing stone into a patch of mud, almost comical, yet utterly staggering with her newfound clarity. Rex seemed to be having the same revelation, but only for a second. The moment Ahsoka shifted her weight, he jolted and spun away, darting out of the grove towards Kix. Ahsoka took one last exasperated glance at him before she turned her focus towards the battlefield, masked from view behind the thick trunks.

The pounding of cannonfire had since stopped, replaced by an ominous, flat-toned zapping sound that pierced the atmosphere sporadically. Pale blue light flickered across the surrounding stalks in unison, accompanying the screams that bounced off the edges of the gorge. Ahsoka instinctively stepped forward, peering around the side of the trunk to source out the cause of the cries. The move nearly led her head-on into Kix as he slipped past her into cover, a writhing trooper held between his own shoulders and Rex’s. With a slight grunt, the medic leaned deftly to the side in a failed effort to avoid her, accidentally clipping her hard enough to twist her around at the hip. Rex, straightening from his position at the injured clone’s side, steadied her before she could lose her balance, his arm applying gentle pressure to her back as she recovered and made to continue after the screams.

“Don’t.”

Ahsoka froze, turning back to face the captain. “What?”

“Don’t look,” Rex replied in a hushed tone. A tiny tremor, barely noticeable, raced up the arm still secured at the small of her back. “Not now. Not yet.”

Ahsoka paused, her eyes drifting slowly over to Skip, who had since pushed himself up, forgoing his clear view of the battlefield. His helmet lay askew at his side, and even through the dim light, she could see that the ARF was deathly pale. Her gaze met his, and he shook his head, murmuring a hushed “They’re _gone_ , sir. They just… _disappeared_.”

Again, Ahsoka turned to Rex, a second “ _What?_ ” forming at her lips, but before she could get the word out, he turned away, kama swaying about his hips.

“Alright, you heard the general. Let’s go.”

“You _can’t_ be _serious_ ,” Jesse whirled from his position, his deecee still sporting a wisp of smoke, curling about the muzzle from recent firing.

“I used to think General Krell was reckless, but now I’m beginning to think he just hates clones,” Fives added, clinging to Jesse’s sentiment. A trooper to Ahsoka’s immediate left shook his head, the deep V-shape that sliced down his helmet wavering in the dim light. She could sense his exasperation.

“The _captain_ is _right._ Now let’s move out.”

Desperate for reinforcement, the man’s words seemed to be all Rex needed, and he turned, moving at a near-sprint out towards the field. Fives moved to catch him, fingers stretching to curl about his pauldron, but Ahsoka was faster, and the words she had never spoken to Krell pressed into her throat like the tips of a thousand blades.

“Captain, stop _right_ now _._ ”

Behind her, the conflicted chatter of the men fell to a tense hush. Fives’ hand jerked from Rex’s shoulder as if burned, and the captain recoiled right along with it.

For all it hurt to pull rank, and to pull rank in _that_ tone of voice ― for all it hurt to simply _continue_ , Ahsoka pushed forward.

“There has to be another way. I’m _not_ going back out there ― not letting _you_ go back out there just to be _slaughtered_.” Ahsoka bit back a snarl at the last word, a hand cutting through the air in pent-up irritation. “I don’t care what Krell says at this point. Not now. There has to be another way.”

Only silenced answered her.

Rex stood where he had stopped, hands balled into tight fists at his sides. The posture was dangerous ― warning, and his Force signature pulsed a furious red. Ahsoka was suddenly grateful she had bit her tongue while reprimanding him, saving him from the ‘ _You’re smarter than this’_ that had almost burst from her lips.

This had _everything_ to do with loyalty, she realized, yet she was blatantly tearing through the principles that her captain practically held sacred. _But something had to be done._

“Rex, look. Look at me.”

“Sir…,” came the tight response.

“I know. I know I can’t say anything to justify this. It’s not logical. I understand that, but―” An earth shattering explosion sent tremors through Ahsoka’s boots, and she braced, the calm demeanor she had taken on wavering for a moment under the stress of the situation. Rex seemed to eye her through his visor, almost reluctant, before approaching slowly.

“We can’t, sir. The general… He won’t…”

“ _Please,_ Rex,” Ahsoka intervened. “Trust me. I can’t ask for anything more. Just let me handle this.”

_“Sir.”_

“Rex, just this once. I promise you I’ll handle Krell. I need you for this.”

Again, the same flush of red swirled within Rex’s Force signature, but this time, it was far from anger. It was desperation ― sharp-edged, hot, and panicked, like that of a cornered animal. Yet, it was only there for an instant, fading into the backdrop just as quickly as it had reappeared. The cool, if somewhat conflicted trust that replaced it soothed the stress set in the captain’s shoulders, banishing the terseness from his voice. Determined acceptance quickly followed suit.

“Alright. Just this once. What’s the plan?”

 

* * *

 

“Tank at 9 o’clock,” Rex’s hushed voice came out metallic through the filters of his helmet. “Fives, you know what to do.”

Through her macrobinoculars, Ahsoka could see the ARC wave forward the line of rocket launchers, holding up a fist as the men settled behind him, positions set. Tinged green and overwhelmed by a blizzard of grainy interference from the night vision setting, Ahsoka could see a spider tank pursuing the distracting group of Torrent across an expanse of open field. The earth dug into her stomach as she edged forward on her elbows, concealed by the thick alien grass that sprung up around her.

 _“On your call, Commander,_ ” Fives replied through Rex’s comm.

“Hold, Fives,” Ahsoka answered.

At her side, Rex lay still, although she could feel his anxiety even without assistance from the Force. Not that the emotion was unfamiliar to him ― she usually picked up on it whenever her master pitched a needlessly ludicrous plan.

And this plan was as ridiculous as they came.

It was a ‘three-tiered,’ lightning-speed approach, as Ahsoka had put it, back in the grove. The small group of exposed Torrent acted as a distraction for a distraction ― _that_ distraction being Fives and his rocket launchers. They were responsible for keeping the attention off of Rex and herself, who would be, rather regrettably, getting up close and personal with the tanks. _Very_ up close, and _very_ personal.

Lowering the macrobinoculars as the frantic group of clones zig-zagged through the gorge, Ahsoka reached to unclip her lightsaber from her belt, fingers curling around the cool hilt. The action always left her with a keen sense of confidence, simply knowing that she held control of the weapon ― that she wasn’t defenseless. This time, however, the feeling was tinged with apprehension, and rather unceremoniously, she dropped the blade into her captain’s waiting hand.

“Remember how to activate it, Rex?”

“As easy as pushing a button.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the tiny grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, something like that.”

A shrill chirp from Rex’s comm interrupted the humored huff that the captain gave in response. _“Commander, Squad Epsilon has reached cover.”_

“Alright Fives,” Ahsoka said. “Let ‘em have it.”

The barrage started instantaneously.

Streaks of orange lit the blackened sky, screaming as they left the barrels of the launchers. The acrid scent of tibanna smoke filled the air. Ahsoka’s throat stung from the smell while her eyes, tearing up from the bitter nature of the odor, struggled to adjust to the sudden brightness. The tank, taken by surprise, spun and reared back, its legs struggling to recover from the blunt force of the rockets. Its shields, however, persisted. That had been expected; all that mattered was that the diversion had worked.

With a curt nod, Rex scrambled to his feet and sprinted for the tank, igniting the saber in his hand. Wariness tightened Ahsoka’s chest as she followed after him, attempting to quiet her mind. The success of the plan depended on her use of the Force. If she failed to grasp it, the lives of her men could very well be endangered, if not worse.

Tracing the bright green tinge of light through the mist, Ahsoka waited until Rex took his position, some distance from the staggering legs of the tank. She had _seen_ men crushed under their weight before, but she trusted in Rex. Worrying wouldn’t help his cause.

The blade stilled in the mist, a singular beacon amid the chaos, and Ahsoka’s breath caught. _That was her signal._ It was time.

Lifting both arms, Ahsoka caught the image of the tank in her mind ― the glow of its cockpit, the thick steel of its base, and the towering launcher above it all. Without a doubt, it would be the largest object she had ever attempted to hold without the help of her master. The thought was daunting, sparking fear in her gut, but Ahsoka used it to her advantage, nursing the glimmer into a roaring blaze. Fear became panic; her sense of responsibility became the liability over her men’s lives, and above all, her thoughts of Krell became fury ― a burning, searing wrath.

And with an primal scream sourced from the pits of her chest, Ahsoka found the tank in the Force and held on tight.

Seconds passed like hours, then ceased to hold any meaning entirely. When Ahsoka finally opened her eyes, still holding the tank in place, her vision danced with vivid violet and red-washed light. Through it all, she could see Rex, and her saber which he held like a welding torch in his fist. To his credit, he hadn’t stalled at the sight of the frozen tank, and instead had taken to his assigned task: cutting through the hydraulics and power lines in the legs of the machine. By the looks of it, he was almost done.

Arms wavering under the strain of the task, Ahsoka watched as Rex reached to cut the cables of the last leg, grappling with the wires for a moment before bringing the saber down in an arc of iridescent green. It was almost as if the move had cut the nerves from her arms. The tank, disabled and no longer capable of supporting its own weight, relied entirely on Ahsoka’s rapidly diminishing strength to keep it standing. The pain ripped another raw scream from Ahsoka’s throat, and she barely managed to keep the tank up in time for Rex to sprint out from under it. It was only when the captain launched himself at her, tackling her about the midsection, that she finally gave in and released the tank.

Ahsoka barely processed the thunderous sound that went up from the spider tank’s collapse, only caught up in the dizzying sensation that jolted through her head as her montrals slammed into Rex’s chestplate. The captain had taken the brunt of the impact, throwing them both behind the cover of a broken trunk and twisting just enough so that he came down hard on his back with her braced against his chest. It took a moment for Ahsoka to catch her breath, Rex lying still beneath her with his gloved hand pressed protectively against the back of her skull to shield her from shrapnel. The steady rise and fall of his chest assured her that the plan hadn’t been taxing, and the guarantee filled her with relief. The realization that everything had gone according to plan settled in shortly after.

“It _worked?”_

Rex’s breath came out in a sharp gust as Ahsoka suddenly sat up, her weight pressing into his diaphragm. In her enthusiasm, she could only manage a hasty apology before breaking into disbelieving laughter. The captain stilled for an instant, then propped himself up on one elbow with a groan.

“Here I was thinking you had confidence in it the whole time.”

“I… I _did_ , but _still_. That was such… such a…”

“A Skywalker plan,” the captain finished for her, continuing as Ahsoka burst into another bout of laughter despite the lingering ache in her shoulders. “ _Kriff,_ I think I just aged ten years.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Who knew that their ray shields were the same as droidekas?”

“You, I’d hope, considering…,” Rex trailed off, although his voice was wry. Ahsoka answered with a sharp slap to his plackart. The captain chuckled, pushing himself up, dropping her lightsaber into her outstretched palm, and raising his comm to his helmet.

“Fives, report.”

 _“Holy_ kriff!” Came the incredulous reply. Rex cleared his throat, and the comm crackled with what sounded like a quick exhale. “ _Sorry, sirs. But did you_ see _that? Commander Tano, you never fail to impress me_ or _scare the_ karking _life outta me.”_

“Much appreciated, Fives,” Ahsoka pitched in over Rex’s shoulder. Rex only cleared his throat again.

 _“Right. Sorry. You have some time, sir. Squadron Theta has the other tank bearing down on their_ shebs _, though, so be quick about it. I left a slicer who’ll help you out.”_

“Got it. Thanks, trooper,” Rex responded curtly, cutting the signal. Ahsoka, already on her feet, offered the captain a hand. He accepted it, and she pulled him upright.

The wreck of the spider tank only lay a ten second’s walk away, and Ahsoka found herself realizing how close she had actually been to letting the thing come down on both herself and Rex. Truly, the tank was too close for comfort ― a steaming machine settled in the center of a crater-like pit ― an imprint of its fall, as well as a reminder of how deadly heavy it had been. With the hydraulics and power lines cut, luminescent green fuel that stung to inhale leaked from the severed limbs, pooling in the cracks of the soil. Ahsoka made a conscious effort to avoid it, decidedly concluding that the stuff was toxic, acidic, or both.

A group of clones had gathered around the fallen tank, their shadows projected against the twisted metal as the second spider tank unleashed chaos upon a larger squadron of men in the background. Fives was nowhere to be seen, which meant that it was likely he had returned head-long into the fight. True to character, he hadn’t named the slicer before doing so. Ahsoka gave a frustrated sigh, glancing over at Rex. The captain shook his head.

“Alright,” Ahsoka pitched her voice to carry, drawing the attention of the gathered men. “I want all of you to loop around and meet back up with the main group. Help out the rest of Torrent. Keep the tank distracted. Move out ― everyone except someone who’s… good at slicing.”

A ripple of tired laughter pushed its way from the men, some patting each other on the back good-humoredly. The rest turned, trotting off in the direction of the remaining tank. Ahsoka watched them go, hands on her hips, until one man remained: an ARF, with his helmet tucked lightly under his arm.

“Skip.” Ahsoka could hear the amusement in Rex’s voice as the captain identified the clone. Skip simply touched two fingers, almost wearily, to his temple.

“Ready for orders, sir.”

“Good man. You alright with being lifted?”

Confusion furrowed Skip’s eyebrows, and he turned, gaze climbing up from the base of the downed tank to the cockpit that lay some distance above. Ahsoka very nearly laughed at the apprehensive tone that slipped into his voice. “Lifted? Lifted how, sir?”

“‘Fraid by me, Skip,” Ahsoka replied.

Realization seemed to dawn in the ARF’s eyes as he glanced from Ahsoka to the tank, and then back again. A slight grin ― perhaps even a tinge of excitement ― lit his face. “Sounds fun.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Ahsoka quipped, taking a moment to stretch her still-burning arms. “Just hold still.”

Skip’s weight came as surprise.

It wasn’t that Ahsoka hadn’t been used to lifting clones; she had done it many times before, even with the captain himself. It was just that she hadn’t done it after holding a straining _tank_ in place. At first, Skip had wobbled, just inches off the ground as he struggled to comply with her request. Lifting him, after such exertion, felt like moving a limb that had been asleep for hours. It was more than a bit uncomfortable, and the Force somehow felt _numb,_ as if she didn’t have a grip on the ARF at all. The resulting trip up, for Skip, had been rather _turbulent_ , with lurching boosts oftentimes followed by sudden dips.

By the time Skip reached the top, he appeared slightly nauseated, but attempted to cover it with a wobbly laugh. Ahsoka, mortified, cast a sheepish glance at Rex, before using a Force-powered jump to leap up to the roof of the tank where the ARF was waiting.

“Sorry, Skip,” Ahsoka grimaced once she had gained footing on the sleek metal of the craft. The ARF gave a full body shudder, rattling plastoid against plastoid.

“Don’t worry about it, sir. I can understand if you’re tired, after taking down this thing.” He gestured to the wrecked tank beneath his boots. “That was _karking_ incredible, by the way.”

Ahsoka gave a wry smile but said nothing, instead bracing to slide down the smooth dome of the tank towards the cockpit.

Without power, the previously ray-shielded cockpit was left open and exposed, leaving the dazed Umbaran pilot inside defenseless. He didn’t seem to notice Ahsoka’s arrival, only turning when Skip slid down next to her, his helmet now concealing his face. One look at the ARF, and the pilot murmured something low and frantic in his throat, rolling rather clumsily over the edge of the cockpit burrow and plummeting to the ground below.

The fall wouldn’t be enough the kill him, Ahsoka knew, but the surprised exclamation from Rex and the following sound of a blaster discharging seemed adequate enough. The plan depended on the complete ignorance of the Umbarans ― the pilot couldn’t have lived regardless.

“Alright, sir, give me a second,” Skip murmured, slipping into the cockpit seat and fiddling with the dashboard. A cord, produced seemingly from nowhere, attached to a coupling plug near what Ahsoka assumed were the munitions controls and wove into the portable power cell that Skip balanced on his thigh. Flipping the switch on the minuscule box, the dashboard lit up with a duo-toned hum.

Ahsoka watched with blatant curiosity as Skip hooked up a second component ― a datapad ― to the plug, a keypad projecting a faint blue light from the screen. A moment later, and the display split.

As Ahsoka looked on, a series of radiating circles passed from a central point across the map on the right side of the split-screen. A red dot, some distance from the source, pulsed with each wave that passed over it, blipping faintly. Skip squinted at it before tapping it with a stylus and locking onto its coordinates.

“Got it. We’re on the airbase channels. What’s the message?”

Sliding into the cockpit burrow and bracing a hand on each of Skip’s shoulders to peer at the map, Ahsoka chewed at her lip. “Do you have a translator?”

“Installed.”

“Alright. Code it as an urgent SOS message. All forces.”

“Uh-huh.” Skip’s stylus flew over the screen. “What are we writing, Commander?”

“No tanks,” Ahsoka said immediately. “Note that only ground troops are useful. Mention that the Republic forces have possession of some unidentified electromagnetic cannon, so tanks and fighters can easily be shut down. Ground troops only. That’s all.”

“Good thinking, Commander,” Skip grinned, sending off the message with a flourish of his stylus. “We’ll get ‘em good this time.”

Ahsoka smiled, giving the ARF’s shoulder plates a squeeze. Then, without any preamble, she leaned over the edge of the cockpit to wave at Rex. The captain caught her gaze.

“Did it work?”

“Tell the men to put on their party clothes,” Ahsoka called back. “We’re expecting company.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between hurricanes (Hawaii resident here), college applications, standardized testing, and generally fighting off senioritis, I have been (to put it nicely) drowning in stress. I just haven't had the emotional energy to work on this at ALL. But when I saw it'd been two months?? You bet I powered through half this thing in one day. Excuse the fact that it's a first draft. I might try and edit pacing with little snippets here and there, at some point. For now, here it is. I hope you enjoyed(??). I really, really do.
> 
> As always, please leave any feedback or comments you can think of. They motivate my sorry self to write, and criticism always helps me to write BETTER. Thank you for putting up with this.
> 
> November 27th NOTICE: I'll be placing this fic on a temporary hiatus until my winter break, which starts December 21st. I've been up to my neck in college application season, and I'm constantly worried that I've let you all down by leaving this piece hanging without any further info. I just need a bit to get my thoughts sorted. On the up-side, I'll be back to writing in less than a month! Again, thank you all SO much for sticking with this fic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Around Ahsoka, Torrent fell into a tense hush, the silence obstructed only by the distant pacing of the Umbaran spider tank still in search of the remaining clones. Amidst the quiet, it went without saying that the mangled remains of the accompanying tank had already been discovered; that, without needed explanation, was impossible to miss. Nonetheless, if the Umbaran pilot felt obliged to report back to the airbase, any conveyed information would only feed into the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeets chapter into the 3-month-absence void

“Alright, form up. This’ll be a short one.”

Around Ahsoka, Torrent fell into a tense hush, the silence obstructed only by the distant pacing of the Umbaran spider tank still in search of the remaining clones. Amidst the quiet, it went without saying that the mangled remains of the accompanying tank had already been discovered; that, without needed explanation, was impossible to miss. Nonetheless, if the Umbaran pilot felt obliged to report back to the airbase, any conveyed information would only feed into the plan.

At least _that_ was one thing that couldn’t go wrong. Ahsoka decided not to dwell on the thousands of other fatal ― and terrifyingly likely ― outcomes of her plot. Anakin, in theory, would have been proud.

“I know this is a _Skywalker_ plan,” Ahsoka said, voicing the thought as soon as she could put it to words. The term drew a chorus of fatigued chuckles from the men around her, and she did her best to return their laughter with a knowing smile of her own ― a welcomed morale boost, if nothing else. “I know that’s what you’re all thinking.”

“Among a few other choice words.”

“Understandable, Fives,” Ahsoka replied, pivoting slightly on her heels. Her gaze sifted through the ranks, sourcing the voice out to where Torrent’s token ARC stood, arms crossed steadily across his chest. The determined, unwavering stance ― distinctly Fives — automatically caused Ahsoka to dip her chin in a subtly knowing gesture. “Just save those for after the briefing.”

Again, a wave of tired laughter swept through Torrent, and, just barely, Ahsoka could see the amused glint in the ARC’s eyes.

_Good. That was good._

Diversions were good. Humor was good. Anything, _anything_ aside from the overwhelming feel of general exhaustion was, in itself, promising. Arguably, the men needed morale more than they did bacta, and _that,_ Ahsoka thought, was saying something.

Swallowing hard against the dry knot at the base of her throat, Ahsoka breathed a long sigh, before straightening and placing her hands on her hips in the authoritative ‘briefing stance’ that her men knew so well. At her side, she heard plastoid click as Rex, ever vigilant, fell into parade rest.

“Boys, I’m sure you’re all dying to hear the rest of the ‘Skywalker Plan’ I’ve painstakingly put together over the past―” Ahsoka made a brief show of counting out a few fingers, meticulously, “―four minutes.” A faint rumble of laughter, and Ahsoka pushed on in subconscious victory, swiveling from her front-face stance to begin an assertive, slow pace before the company. “But let me give it to you straight: I need everyone at peak performance if we’re gonna pull this off. That’s capital Esk for Effort. Am I understood?”

“When have we ever given you any less, sir?” Jesse said, and ducked away from a playful shove Fives intended for his shoulder bell. Ahsoka, in turn, answered with an impressive eye-roll, and with a tip of her montrals, she beckoned Jesse to her side. A telling glance at Fives assured that the ARC followed suit.

“These,” Ahsoka motioned broadly at the pair as they settled to her left, “will be the leaders of Squad Besh.” Barely noticeable, Jesse and Fives’ helmets turned a fraction to look in her direction. Command, she knew, was not to be desired; not in this case ― but she needed their experience. “All those who were under the command of Rex and Fives during the first assault, you are assigned to Squad Besh. You all are tasked with taking hold of the airbase and wiping out the rebel defenses there. I’ve directed Fives with an alternate path to the target, so that you won’t run into the Umbaran reinforcements on the way out. None of you,” she swallowed again as the knot in her throat grew bitter, “will be staying on this battlefield when the Umbaran reinforcements arrive.”

The spike of petrifying fear in the Force was exactly what Ahsoka had been expecting from the statement, completely extinguishing any humor that had formerly lingered amongst Torrent. There truly was no need to explain what the other squad would be doing now; that much was clear from the sudden tension alone.

They knew: Squad Aurek — her squad — was a near death sentence.

Ahsoka had told her men about the message that she had referred to the airbase earlier; _All Forces,_ she had said, _Only ground troops._ That meant Torrent would be facing the majority of what the Umbarans had ― all of around thirty men against an entire base of rebels.

And if Besh wouldn’t be fighting the reinforcements, Aurek, by process of elimination, would be.

But the briefing had yet to be completed. Objectives had to be said. There was no sugar-coating it, even if Torrent had already figured it out. Ahsoka pivoted again, sharply, and forced her voice out from where it had been caught in her chest.

“Squad Aurek will be under the command of Rex and myself. We will see to the Umbarans when they get here. Our task will be to buy as much time as possible for Squad Besh. Holding the Umbarans here is vital to the success of the mission, and once the airbase is captured, we’ll be able to call for reinforcements from Besh and the rest of the company. Until then, we make sure that the rebels don’t find out that we’re a diversion from the main assault. All those who were under my command during the first assault are still with me.” Ahsoka hesitated, reluctant to end the impromptu briefing. Still, there was a mission to complete. Stalling wouldn’t do Torrent any good. Mustering the last of her confidence, Ahsoka dismissed both squads with a fleeting wave. “That is all.”

The men before her seemed to slump out of parade rest, and as Ahsoka had anticipated, Besh quickly seemed to envelope the troopers in Aurek, helmets touching to helmets while gloved hands settled on shoulders in unspoken comfort. To her left, Ahsoka heard Fives take a sharp breath, raspy and modulated through the filters of his helmet. There was no need to look; she knew the ARC had turned to her questioningly, but she moved all the same, wheeling around to pull him into a powerful, contrite hug.

“Fives, I’m so sorry, I…,” her voice wavered, tight with guilt, and his arms came around her midsection, soothing for all that the plastoid of his armor dug into her flesh.

“You shouldn’t be apologizing, sir. It’s not your fault. If this is the best we can do, then it is what it is.”

“I feel like I’m as a bad as Krell, here. I _know_ this is going to get my men killed, but I’m just going with it. I _made_ the plan, for _kriff’s_ sake, I should know better. I should…”

“You are _not_ like Krell.” The fierceness Fives voice shook the haze from Ahsoka’s eyes, jolting her gaze up to where the ARC stared fervently down at her through his visor. “If you were up there instead of him, you’d’ve sent us reinforcements without question, and we wouldn’t be in this whole _karking_ mess to begin with. You’re making due with what we have. This―” Fives swept a hand in a vast gesture towards Torrent, “―is what we have.”

“But―”

“But nothing, sir. Keeping with this… switched-positions analogy, if _Krell_ were down here, I’d bet you my last credit that he’d order a full-forward assault. None of this planning that you’re doing. This is the last resort. We have an objective with no other means to accomplish it. It’s a compromise for some rather than a death sentence for all.”

“Pretty words,” Ahsoka huffed, but offered a wry smile, prompting Fives to lightly knock her right montral with the filters of his helmet. That alone blatantly revealed the ARC’s attempt to lift the weight from the conversation, and for her own sake, Ahsoka let him.

“At least the briefing was short.”

“Aw, shut up. I said it would be. And _ouch._ I need those to hear.”

“Not that they’ve done you any good before, then.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth in mock-offense and made to respond, but Rex, skimming past her as he directed each man to their respective squad, cut her off with a quick, half-serious reprimand. “Regs, Fives.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fives replied, gruff, but released Ahsoka promptly and gave her a quick salute ― out of habit, more than anything ― before moving off towards his designated group. Ahsoka rolled her eyes and turned to follow Rex.

It took Ahsoka some effort to catch up with her captain, but she kept his pace the moment she caught it, alternating between a brisk walk and a jog. He was making good time, clearing up any remaining stragglers and ushering them back towards where the two squads were coming together into neat formations beneath the cover of the glowing flora. Aurek’s meager numbers were troubling, and Ahsoka turned away with a wince to look over at Rex. “I’m usually pretty good at those,” she said in an attempt to break the silence, pausing, perturbed, when he didn’t respond. “Regs, I mean.”

“Hm. I can attest.”

The absence of the urge to shove Rex’s shoulder bell, as Ahsoka would have done in any other scenario, was felt acutely ― almost poignantly. Rather than forcing the move, however, she bowed her head, a vague smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “It felt like he needed it. Force knows _I_ needed it.”

Rex was silent. Ahsoka pushed on, her voice quiet with uncertainty.

“Like you did, Rex. Back on the ridge, before the battle. I think we all―”

“I know,” Rex cut in, gently. “I wasn’t being serious, sir.”

“That’s a first,” Ahsoka quipped, for all that her mind roiled with conflict. No, he _hadn’t_ held any weight to the reprimand, specifically; she knew that. But his mention of regulations in a situation where he otherwise wouldn’t have said _anything_ held sinister undertones, especially with Krell’s enthusiasm for… formality. _That_ was what she wanted him to realize. “My point remains, though, Rex. I _know_ you know when rules and regs are important, and when they’re… less so. That’s all. This has nothing to do with what you said, mind you. I know when you’re kidding. Just…”

“You felt like it needed to be said.”

“You know me.”

“Like the back of my hand, Commander.”

This time, Ahsoka did nudge his shoulder bell, the gesture teasing and light as the pair rounded back on the gathered men.

Under the red-tinged glow of the local flora, the remaining Torrent bore a strong resemblance to skittish troopers in a larty, bathed in the pre-landing warning lights that flared right before the doors opened to reveal another wicked theater of war. Their emotions seemed to bear the same congruence as well, and as Ahsoka observed her men with cool regard, she sifted through the waves of sentiment that washed through them. Besh burned with guilt, and Aurek with dread.

In her own racing mind, Ahsoka felt both.

“I’ve already debriefed Fives on the alternate route to the airbase,” Ahsoka began, calling Besh’s attention back to where she stood, a few paces before the head of Aurek. “So I trust that you will find your way quickly and efficiently. However, in the case where any one of you becomes separated from your squad, head due west. The airbase is at the mouth of the gorge. If there are any questions about the assault, ask them now. If not, form up.”

Besh was silent.

Ahsoka watched placidly as Fives took his position at the front of the squad, Jesse at his six. Behind them, the men stood stark still, helmets set forward and deecees braced steadily against plastoid armor. Anticipation hung thick in the hazy air ― time was most definitely of the essence, and all that was left now was the marching order.

Ahsoka shifted her attention to Fives in confirmation, her gaze muted, reflected in nebulous line across his visor. Just over his shoulder, she caught a faintest flicker of movement as Kix, on the leftmost edge of Aurek, leaned between the distinct gap separating the squads and caught Jesse by his plackart. The marching order died in her throat at she watched the medic tenderly touch his helmet to his brother’s in tacit solace.

Whatever composure Ahsoka had gathered vanished in a heartbeat.

She couldn’t voice the order now, even if she wanted to. Even if she _tried._

Blinking furiously at the sudden onslaught of tears, Ahsoka snapped around to look at Rex. _Hells_ only knew how desperate she looked, for the captain caught her unspoken plea instantaneously, acknowledging her with a sharp nod.

There were times when Ahsoka took her communication with Rex for granted, but now was certainly not one of them.

Silently thanking the Force for the staunch understanding two years of serving side-by-side had provided, she watched through clouded eyes as the captain snapped to attention, barking the marching order with a smarting, two-fingered point.

“Move out.”

Besh started forward almost dubiously, contrary to the sharp tone of Rex’s voice, but Ahsoka could still see the purpose in their steps. They were _exhausted,_ drained from the continuous, consecutive battles, but when they had a purpose ― _especially_ when lives were at stake ― they would persevere, and do so efficiently. She knew that; and despite the unison they lacked, Fives held the squad’s pace steady, rapidly marching Besh into the shadows cast by the edge of the ridge. At her side, Rex watched them go, the white globules of reflected plastoid slowly shrinking into the depths of his visor.

And when the shapes lost all form and color entirely, Ahsoka knew they were gone, rounding the incline towards the mouth of the gorge where the airbase was situated.

She didn’t watch them march off herself ― she couldn’t bring herself to. There wasn’t quite an explanation for it, either; Besh was supposed to be the _lucky_ squadron ― the men _not_ practically slated for death. It wasn’t like she was sending them off to some hellish battle from which they would never return. On the contrary, they were marching _away_ from assured danger.

Perhaps that was why she couldn’t watch them, then.

That was _safety,_ moving further and further out of reach, into the inky blackness ― the safety she was unable to grant to her men, the safety she was letting slip through their fingers.

And worst of all, she couldn’t do anything about it.

“Should we comm General Krell, sir?”

Rex’s voice came as a low, grated question, barely enough to catch Ahsoka’s attention as she found herself staring absently into his visor, indirectly watching Besh vanish into the darkness. His words took a moment to register, but when they did, she found herself speaking before she could consciously weigh her options.

“No.”

 _“No,_ sir?” Rex echoed. Behind her, she could hear Aurek shift uneasily.

“I mean, we will,” amended Ahsoka. “Eventually.”

“But not now.”

“No. Now, we wait.”

 

* * *

 

“Company, we’ve got commander. Er―”

Ahsoka was on the ground at Skip’s side in an instant, one hand on the shoto at her hip and the other reaching out to accept the ARF’s macrobinoculars. In the dark, it was nearly impossible to pick out any movement beyond the underbrush, even with Togrutan enhanced night vision. There were, of course, other senses to rely on, as well; it wasn’t like she wouldn’t be able to hear the Umbarans eventually, but _eventually_ took too long. With a strained sigh, Ahsoka squinted into the darkness and anticipated the cool weight of the macros against her outstretched palm, only to wince when her elbow ground against the dirt beneath her.

At her side, Ahsoka felt Skip redistribute his weight, rolling towards her and dropping the binoculars into her hand before settling flat on his stomach again. “Company. We’ve got _company,”_ he corrected sheepishly.

“I can confirm,” replied Rex.

Ahsoka glanced over her shoulder, observing the captain as he took a knee near a broad trunk and scanned the hazy plane with his own set of macros. His apparent line of sight swept smoothly along the gorge’s edge, before snapping back to the main drag. Ahsoka flinched, shifting to set Skip’s macrobinoculars to her eyes.

“Sitrep, Captain. What are we getting?”

“The tank’s still patrolling at 0300,” said Rex. “Otherwise, I can’t see much of anything besides a few silhouettes.”

“Guess they call ‘em the Shadow People for a reason,” Skip sighed, his tone pinched. “Won’t they get suspicious about the fact that there’s still a tank left at all? With the EM tech story and all…”

Adjusting the focus on her macros, Ahsoka edged forward, straining for a clearer view. “We’ll be fine. The second tank didn’t see the first come down, so as far as _he_ knows, there very well may be an EM weapon. And I’ll bet you my last credit that he reported tank one’s mysterious disappearance, which lines up with the story.” She shrugged minutely, a gesture barely visible with her elbows braced against the ground. “They probably think we just haven’t gotten around to him yet.”

“That’s… that’s good. That’s―,” Skip started, only to be cut off by a sudden, stifled snarl from Ahsoka.

“ _Fek_ if I could see anything, though.”

She paused, lowering the macros just enough to rub viciously at her eyes with the heel of her palm.

“Rex?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Got a heat sensor mod on you, by any chance?”

Rex’s hand fell to his utility belt as if on instinct, sourcing out a diminutive piece of flexsteel-framed plastifilm from a small pouch at his hip. Ahsoka twisted at the waist as he tossed it to her, catching the tech one-handed and hitching it against the end of the macrobinoculars until it gave a precise click.

“Thanks, Cap,” Ahsoka murmured, detachedly, as she raised the macros to her eyes once more.

Umbarans, by nature, ran cooler than most other sentients, but against the frigid, lightless terrain, they stood out on the heat sensor like Corellian lightflies on a pitch black night. Of course, they weren’t the usual red that Ahsoka was used to seeing in lifeforms, instead illuminating the viewfinders with pinpricks of dull yellow; _that_ was usually the color of a _landscape_ during the evening, when the warmth of a system’s star was still seeping from the earth. If Umbara’s landscape had projected the same hue, then perhaps there would’ve been a problem, but untouched by the sun, the terrain shone a deep, contrasting green.

“Perfect,” Ahsoka murmured, a touch too sardonic, prompting Skip to reach for the deecee at his side.

“You can see them?”

“Clearly.”

“What’s it look like?”

“Not good,” said Ahsoka, sullen, as the plethora of yellow flecks advanced, slowly expanding to form humanoid figures. “At _least_ two platoons.”

 _“Fek.”_ Rex’s voice was suddenly much closer to Ahsoka’s shoulder than she had anticipated. “Can’t they tell we don’t want any company?”

“Guess we threw such a party last time that they couldn’t resist coming back.”

Skip scoffed audibly. “They’ll be sorely disappointed that half the hosts have left for their place, then. What an... _unfortunate_ miscommunication.”

Ahsoka smirked, the expression dislocating the macrobinoculars from where they were positioned against the bridge of her nose. She briefly considered readjusting them, but the Umbarans were advancing faster than she had anticipated. Aurek was on borrowed time.

Taking the incidental que in stride, Ahsoka lowered the macros, twisting the heat sensor from the specs and dropping the bare set back into Skip’s palm. Rex, in turn, offered her his hand and she took it, pressing the mod back into his grasp as he pulled her to her feet.

Aurek straightened noticeably as she rose.

“Alright,” Ahsoka started, giving her squad a steady once-over. “This is it. Remember that this is _not_ a… a last stand. We’re spending our time wisely here. Conserve ammo when you can, stay silent when you’re not firing, but don’t forget to keep moving. As long as we make our presence known, they’ll stay here, but if we’re knocked out too fast, they go back. We _cannot_ let them go back until Besh is finished. Am I understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Aurek responded together, their voices laced with quiet finality.

“Good. Stay on your toes. I’ll be right behind you.”

Tipping a short nod to Rex, Ahsoka slipped out from cover, creeping into the tall thistle grass that shrouded the entirety of the field.

The thorns, silvery and needle-thin, didn’t give Ahsoka as much trouble as she had anticipated; in the entirety of her trip around the perimeter of the gorge, the hairlike fibers caught more on the fabric of her top than they did on her flesh. In the end, such things were trivial, but Ahsoka couldn’t help but to be appreciative as she circled around to flank the advancing Umbarans.

Putting some distance between herself and her men was important, she noted, so as not to give the rebels a set target to aim for. That, and the time she had spent had given Aurek the leniency to spread out before the firefight began. They had an inarguably strategic position now ― but only if the Umbarans turned around. Still, she had no question that they would. Their backs were facing her, but that wouldn’t be the case for long.

Ahsoka stood swiftly, acting before the adrenaline coursing through her blood could tell her otherwise. By itself, the feat hadn’t draw any attention, but that was to be expected. She always ran through her preparations in silence. This time would be no different. Casually unclipping both lightsabers from her belt, Ahsoka fell into a defensive stance some distance behind the Umbarans, thistles rustling around her combat boots.

They could’ve turned for that ― Ahsoka would have been impartial either way. Hells, the battle could’ve even started right then and there, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Still, however, the Umbarans advanced, ignorant. Flipping her shoto to reverse grip, Ahsoka leveraged her weight between her boots, giving herself a moment to shift back and forth lightly. It was all nervous energy. Anakin would have told her to quit fidgeting.

If only he _kriffing_ knew.

Clenching her jaw in fierce determination, Ahsoka ignited both sabers.

Brilliant beacons of green and gold sliced into the still air with a distinct hum, and the silent atmosphere shattered. The rebels whirled, as if yanked by some invisible force, and the bolts came instantly ― almost before Ahsoka was ready.

Still, it wouldn’t have mattered. She had only to deflect the first few, early bolts before the dazzling blue of tibanna shot out from the underbrush to defend her.

 

* * *

 

“Move, trooper, _move!”_

Ahsoka ripped her gaze away from the falling step of the spider tank moments before the deafening crunch of plastoid exploded through her montrals. To her left, Kix froze. Bent slightly at the waist, he was still fixed in the stance he had held only a second earlier, mere steps away from stooping over to drag the fallen trooper to safety.

And for that ― for not admitting defeat even as the tank’s leg crested and fell ― he had witnessed everything.

“Kix,” Ahsoka said, but the word stuck in her throat, threatening to gag her if she attempted to force it out. The urge to retch momentarily overwhelmed her senses, bitter bile rising in her chest. She _couldn’t_ afford this now. Clamping down hard on the instinct, she instead reached out, shakily grasping the medic’s bracer. “Kix, look… look at me.”

Kix didn’t move. In her peripheral vision, Ahsoka could see his visor fixed sightlessly ahead, his eyes undoubtedly trained on the mess that lay a short distance from her own back. Her skin prickled as his Force signature writhed with nausea, before drawing in on itself in muted denial.

The tank’s legs rose and fell again, relieving the pressure on the fallen trooper with a sticky, crackling sound. Ahsoka didn’t dare speak now, only tightening her grip on the medic’s arm as the tank’s foot came down close enough to shake her balance. Some stretch above her head, the mounted cannon went off, launching a glittering orb into the cloudy midst of the gorge. An explosion rocked the terrain in the distance as the fire arched out of sight, blending in with the jarring thump of the spider tank as it took another step.

They had to move.

“Kix,” Ahsoka tried, swallowing thickly. “We have to go, now. We’ll be crush―”

Kix’s arm jerked away and he straightened suddenly, his helmet snapping around to look at Ahsoka with such alarm that it almost seemed as if he had forgotten she was there at all. “Sorry,” he rasped, breathless. “Sorry. It won’t happen again, Commander. Cover, we need―”

“Don’t worry. Just keep going, I’ve got your back.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kix took a few running steps backwards, visor still trained on the fallen trooper until he turned completely and darted off towards a line of stout trees. Ahsoka followed after him, giving her shoto a quick spin.

The Umbarans, by no means, were making things easy.

It had been a grueling ten minutes since the firefight had broken out, but in truth, it felt like hours; and although Ahsoka’s arms trembled with fatigue, she could easily admit the mental aspect of the battle was much more taxing than the physical.

Her men were dying. Agonizingly so.

Without a working comm, it was nearly impossible to keep track of the exact amount of casualties, but Ahsoka could estimate.

Six minutes after the battle had begun, she had stumbled across Kix and had stuck close, thus unavoidably treated to a front-row seat of the carnage. Kix’s sole focus was on the injured, she knew, and realizing that he couldn’t afford to defend himself, Ahsoka had taken his six. Albeit trailing a bit far behind, she had had a clear view of every occasion ― eight in total ― where Kix had been forced to drag a man into cover. A few were screaming. The rest were silent ― some for more dire reasons than others.

That left twenty two men, at the most ― although even that wasn’t taking into account the men that Ahsoka had seen shot or crushed, let alone the men who were concealed by the darkness and underbrush. Swallowed by the shadows, they were too hard to spot.

The Umbarans, on the other hand, were at something of a disadvantage in that regard.

Ahsoka had understood, fairly quickly, that the rebels’ pressurized helmets maintained a sort of ominous green glow. In terms of looks, the feature was entirely superficial ― the luminosity defined the Umbarans’ features from below, delineating the bones in their faces and giving them an eerie sort of appearance. But Ahsoka was a practical person, and realistically, the glow made them easy to place up close.

Bringing her lightsaber down in a sharp arc, Ahsoka slashed through the propellant chamber of an advancing rebel’s blaster, following with a Force push as the weapon combusted in the Umbaran’s hand. The push itself wasn’t fatal ― sufficient to throw the rebel into the dirt hard enough to fracture his helmet and render him unconscious. _That_ was another itching concern on Ahsoka’s mind: despite all else, she was still a Jedi, and after two years of fighting insentient droids, it was a tedious task to remind herself that these enemies were flesh and blood.

Of course, that wouldn’t stop her from protecting her men ― all at the ultimate cost, if she had to. It just meant that she had to be more aware of the lives she was dealing with.

Up ahead, Kix knelt beside a motionless trooper, his fingers hitched between the man’s blacks and throat. There was no misidentifying the tension that gripped the lines of his shoulder, and if Ahsoka wasn’t mistaken, she could see Kix’s hand shaking minutely at the trooper’s pulsepoint. That alone, she assumed, would be enough to distract him from feeling the thrum of a heartbeat, but she was sorely mistaken; the medic was already ripping off the trooper’s breast plate, followed by his own helmet.

Ahsoka held her breath as Kix stilled, an ear pressed up against the clone’s chest. There was no telltale rise and fall of breathing. Ahsoka couldn’t see the medic’s face, but the familiar tightness in her throat returned all the same, only to be instantly snuffed out by adrenaline as a volley of green laserfire streaked from the underbrush.

The shoto caught the first two bolts easily, directing each back to their respective target. Ahsoka could sense the remaining pair of Umbarans circling, concealed by the thick growth. It was rather difficult to follow their progress, especially with the continuous exchange of blasterfire echoing off the walls of the gorge, and in a second’s lapse of concentration, one presence managed to slip from Ahsoka’s grasp, reemerging behind her a moment later. She spun, barely catching a glimpse of Kix jerking his head up from the trooper’s chest to fumble for a hypo on his belt.

Relief pooled in Ahsoka’s stomach, an odd polarity to the freezing dread that shot up her spine when she realized that he was too absorbed in his task to fend off the Umbaran whom she had momentarily disregarded.

_Kriff._

_Maybe, if she acted fast, she could pull Kix’s blaster and―_

The underbrush rustled, this time on her left.

 _More_ Force- _fekking_ rebels.

Ahsoka very nearly sunk to her knees in exasperation. Perhaps, she realized, she was at the same disadvantage as the rebels in their luminescent helmets. _Maybe if she didn’t have such a bright kriffing blade―_

Two quick shots and the first Umbaran, who had boldly stepped out from cover a second earlier, fumbled backwards. Another shot, followed by a bright blue flare, and his head snapped back, a smoldering hole adorning the center of his helmet. Something ― _someone_ ― let out a garbled cry in response.

Ahsoka whirled just in time to identify the second charging Umbaran, using her momentum to grab him by the hem of his uniform. Bunching the sleek fabric in her fist, she folded her forearm flat against the rebel’s chest and drove her shoulder into the center of his torso, the brunt of her weight and a touch of the Force knocking him back hard. His helmet slammed against the broad trunk of the flora behind him and the glass cracked. Ahsoka let him crumple.

“Sometimes I wish I had a regular viroblade,” she said to the pair of jaig eyes she knew were observing her watchfully from behind. Her own eyes remained locked on the unconscious Umbaran at her feet. “This glow is becoming _really kriffing_ inconvenient.”

“I’ve thought about it. I’d offer my―”

Ahsoka heard Rex shift and she turned, managing to lean deftly to the right as a trio of blaster bolts shot past her montrals. The captain ducked under the assault and returned fire, his stance instantly defensive. Inches behind him, the injured trooper tensed at the loud crack of plasma against Umbaran armor, before slumping lifelessly back into Kix’s arms.

Ahsoka froze.

“Sixteen.” The medic’s voice was stony and barely audible amongst the renewed blasterfire.

_“Sixteen?”_

“Five incapacitated. If we’re lucky.”

A few shots deflected off Ahsoka’s green lightsaber, but she was far too distracted to aim them anywhere meaningful. Her hands were shaking so violently that she doubted it would be worth the effort, anyway. Between the stinging strain in her arms and Kix’s blunt news of the casualties ― _eleven_ out of _thirty_ men left ―, the rush of panic was almost too much to bear.

Geonosis had been rough, as had Felucia, but this easily topped the list.

“Rex,” Ahsoka rasped. “We need to―”

Another array of bolts screamed from the trees, effectively cutting Ahsoka off as her shoto came up to slash a stray shot straight into the dirt. The impact spat splinters of sediment into her arm, and she distantly wished that she at least had attempted to deflect it further off. Wincing, she tried again. “Rex.”

This time, Rex heard her. It was just a slight glance over his shoulder, an apparent afterthought as he fired four consecutive shots into the throat of a downed Umbaran, but it was confirmation all the same. She had his attention.

“We have to comm Krell.”

 _“Now?”_ Kix very nearly shoved the dead trooper off his lap, but caught himself, gradually easing the man to the ground. “Besh―”

“It’s been over ten minutes. Besh may be coming back soon, but―” Ahsoka swung her saber loosely, the wild, uncontrolled hit hurling a bolt into the trunk of a nearby tree. Gelatinous violet fragments splattered over the surrounding growth. “―But we’ll all be dead in a minute if we don’t call for reinforcements _now.”_

“He’ll tear us to _kriffing_ pieces himself if you tell him we went through with a plan that he didn’t approve.”

“Anything is better than this.”

“But he won’t―”

“She’s right,” Rex cut in. Ahsoka swore she could hear Kix’s jaw snap shut beneath his helmet. “We have to try. He can’t just hear the casualty rate and refuse us. He _can’t.”_

There was doubt in Rex’s voice, but he didn’t sound at all uncertain. Not in the least bit. His tone was overly firm ― too forceful to be trusting of his own words, but not from lack of trying. Ahsoka recognized it as a valiant attempt on Rex’s behalf to convince himself that what he was saying was true; and as much as she hated to admit it, Ahsoka wanted to believe him, for reasons other than what her Captain might have thought. Krell was a Jedi, and as dispassionate as he was towards clones, he wouldn’t leave another Jedi to die.

It was a sickening concept, especially when it came to separating herself from her men, but it was plausible.

 _“―ix, come in. We’ve got that ‘fekking spider tank on our heels. We’ve lost Shoals, don’t know where he went, if he’s down or not. Repeat, come i―,”_ Kix’s comm crackled, Skip’s voice coming across the frequency with searing panic. The medic stiffened, and Ahsoka deactivated her sabers to kneel by his side. A few meters ahead, Rex tore off his helmet and exchanged a split-second, telling look with Kix’s visor.

No, not in any of Corellia’s nine hells would any trooper with half a brain refuse a signal like _that._

“Alright,” the medic hissed, snapping off his bracer and pushing the entire piece of armor into Ahsoka’s grasp. The comm was detachable, but that information didn’t seem entirely relevant at the moment. “Alright. Take it. But I’m not staying here to get an earload.”

Ahsoka barely got out a grated ‘Good luck’ before the medic vanished from her side, the white of his plastoid armor scarcely visible in the gloom. Still, it wasn’t difficult to figure out that Kix was headed for the tank.

 _Good-kriffing-luck_ would hardly do it.

Keying in the code for the high command frequency, Ahsoka inched back into the nearest patch of tall thistle, waving a hand at Rex to follow. It was common courtesy; he couldn’t see the gesture, but he seemed to be acutely aware of her retreat, returning fire for a few frenetic seconds before tucking into a roll and withdrawing from his defensive position. Green blasterfire battered the covering trunk the instant he moved, and the smell of singed flora hung in the air, clinging to Rex’s armor as he crawled into the brush beside Ahsoka.

“Are you talking or am I?”

Ahsoka flinched into Rex’s side as a bolt scorched the growth near her thigh. “That’s not a question. It’s my fault we’re in this _karkin―”_

Some twisted force decided that Krell would pick up at that instant, and Ahsoka very nearly finished her sentence directly into the open channel. If it hadn’t been for Rex’s hand, clamping down on her wrist in swift interruption, she suspected things would have been much worse, much faster.

 _“What is it, CT-1616?”_ Krell’s voice came through the comm, laced with obvious annoyance. Ahsoka almost found herself turning to ask whether or not Kix’s designation was _6116,_ but promptly berated herself for even considering it.

“It’s Ahsoka,” she replied instead, attempting to keep her own incensed tone at bay. “Requesting reinforcements, as soon as you’re able.”

_“Reinforcements? Padawan, you’ve been granted seventy units. I sincerely hope you haven’t been putting the clones to waste. What is your status?”_

“The airbase should be under Republic control shortly,” Ahsoka responded, trying not to acknowledge the way that Rex had drawn in on himself. “We lost twenty in a previous run-in. I called an all-forces emergency into the airbase using an Umbaran tank link and kept thirty men here to occupy them.”

_“And the other twenty?”_

Krell’s voice sounded menacing ― almost daring her to continue.

So she did.

“I sent them to overtake the remaining Umbarans at the airbase while we held the rebels here. I only have eleven men left, and we need more time. The other twenty men can’t hold back the rebels if we fail, especially if they haven’t taken control of the base yet.”

There. She had laid out all her cards. Now all she had to do was wait. In a sense, it was like bracing for a shockwave — and, of course, her general didn’t disappoint.

 _“You_ split _your forces? I ordered a full forward assault, Padawan. You_ will _regret your insolence.”_

“Can I regret it later?” Ahsoka snapped before she could stop herself. Distantly, Rex made a strangled noise that he barely muffled against the back of his hand. “We need reinforcements, _now._ You _can’t_ just sit up on that ridge and… and do _nothing!”_

_“You underestimate my values, Tano. On the contrary, I will be aiding this assault. See to it that you uphold your own tasks.”_

“Mas―”

The signal dropped. Ahsoka stilled immediately.

There was a sort of threatening decisiveness to Krell’s words. In any other context, it would seem as if he had just agreed to send reinforcements, but _there ― that_ was the factor that nulled any possibility of mercy. This was _Krell._ Not Master Jedi Krell, but _General_ Krell. Empathy, in that sense, was lacking.

A considerable amount of effort went into pulling her attention away from the dead comm, but when she did, Ahsoka’s first instinct was to look to her captain.

But he wasn’t looking at her.

At first, Ahsoka thought he had been stricken silent with disbelief, but there was more to it than that. If his helmet had been on, she wouldn’t have been able to see that his gaze was fixed ― grim and wary, but fixed. His helmet, however, was off, and his line of sight was clear to follow.

Realization dawned on Ahsoka, momentarily delayed by utter incredulity.

“They’re marching on the airbase.”

Still gripped by the specks of white armor as they disappeared due west off the disant ridge, Rex said nothing to his commander’s afterthought. His silence was so profound that Ahsoka began to wonder if she had even said the words out loud. “They―”

“They don’t need it,” Rex cut in, flat. “Beta doesn’t need support.”

“He’s going to a fight that’s already been won.”

Silence descended over them again.

Up until the last hint of plastoid vanished into the murk, Ahsoka knew that she and her captain had been stating the obvious out of absolute shock. But there was no question in any of it now. She knew Rex was thinking the exact same thing as she was, and there was no need to voice it.  

Krell was leaving them to die.

 

* * *

 

 

The first shot landed a direct hit to Rex’s shoulder, and for one terrifying moment, Ahsoka was sure that it had went straight through his heart.

In that horrific, heart-stopping instant, Rex’s return to the _Resolute_ from Saleucami, of all things, was the first image to flash through her mind ― brief, like a fleeting holoboard ad projected for a split second into Coruscant’s milling night air, but vivid and evocative regardless.

When Ahsoka had asked Kix about the events that had preceded the near-fatal injury, the medic had told her that Rex went down the instant the shot hit his breastplate. Perhaps that was the grounding element in it all. Burned into her memory, the visage that the description evoked stuck in her mind no matter the effort she had put into discarding it, and when the captain grated out a winded gasp but kept firing, Ahsoka knew that this was different — the wound was superficial.

Near seconds after the first, the second shot glanced off Rex’s pauldron, knocking the piece from his injured shoulder and into Ahsoka’s hands. She caught it reflexively before she was even aware of what had happened; it was only a matter of luck that she hadn’t sliced through it with her shoto.

To say that she was on edge was a severe understatement.

The Umbarans had been on the offensive since the battle had begun, but now they had taken to herding her and the remainder of her men against the gorge walls. Torrent was outnumbered; it was as simple as that. The airbase would fall, yes, but Aurek wouldn’t be around to see it happen.

Far too close for comfort, the spider tank thundered through the underbrush, its mounted cannon at the ready. From her position, Ahsoka couldn’t see the clones in desperate retreat, but she didn’t imagine there were very many of them. Something told her they were a distraction ― maybe for Kix to tend to another injured trooper. She didn’t give it much thought.

Rex inhaled sharply as a third bolt slammed into his plackart, offsetting his balance and pitching him into Ahsoka’s side. Virtually buckling under the weight, Ahsoka went down on one knee, fumbling an arm around her captain’s torso to keep him from hitting the ground hard. He leaned helplessly into her hold, and she barely managed to deflect a bolt back into the treeline as it streaked toward her head.

“Rex, come on,” Ahsoka hissed, deactivating her saber and crouching low to the dirt. “Work with me.”

“Sorry, Commander.” A pained grunt. “Give me a minute.”

The captain leveraged his weight against her side, and she let him, her arm quivering in protest. There was a moment, defined by the intense glare of green laserfire, where she thought that he’d simply collapse right there and she’d have to drag him, but at long last, he sucked in a sharp breath and pushed forward.

The wall of the gorge rose swiftly, now, almost within arm’s reach, and it took a touch of audacity for Ahsoka to reaffirm that there was nowhere left to go. Hauling Rex for the remainder of the stretch, she made for the thickest patch of growth she could find — enough, she hoped, to conceal them momentarily. Out of obvious targets, the rebels were actively searching ― scanning the perimeters of the battlefield in a vague sort of pattern that Ahsoka couldn’t decipher in her state. Rex most likely would have been able to figure it out, if it hadn’t been for his injuries.

The captain sat with a dull thud.

Ahsoka could tell he was trying to hold his own weight, as much as it pained him to do so. His Force signature cried out for comfort, yet in sharp contrast, he was visibly composed. Sullen. Ahsoka swallowed thickly and eased him into her side again, edging her shoulder under his arm in support and savoring the moment of repose.

“What an end, huh, Rex?” She began, trying to ignore the way her voice cracked on the question. “Not exactly the valiant end I know we…”

_No._

She stopped. The attempt at humor felt _wrong._ _Fek_ if she wanted nothing more than to be _Snips,_ but she couldn’t. Here, she was just Ahsoka: small and afraid and unbearably ashamed.

“I…,” said Rex.

Silence. Blasterfire. A cry, then silence again.

 _Say it,_ Ahsoka’s mind screamed in response, overloud into the stillness. _Tell me this is my fault. Tell me you’re disappointed. Tell me you don’t know what to do. Tell me—_

“It’s alright, kid.”

Ahsoka's throat felt raw. She couldn’t find it in herself to reply.

The blasterfire was numb to her senses now, muted and muffled like she was on Mon Cala again, floating listlessly in the pitch black silence of the planet’s deepest trench. Her gaze drifted, indistinct, across the landscape. Was that Kix a few feet away, or miles? How many men lay around his feet? Five? Six? Eight?

The spider tank rounded a cleft in the gorge wall sluggishly, its forward sniper floating around to point accusingly at the medic. Several men stilled beneath the beaming spotlamp. Kix had only enough time to tilt his helmet up towards the tank before the injured trooper in his arms was shot straight out of his grasp. His head jerked down at the sudden absence, frozen in apparent disbelief. Ahsoka let her eyes fall shut.

 _Get up._ Her legs protested weakly. _Move. Fight. Help. Do something._ Beside her, she could feel Rex making a valiant effort to climb to his feet, the plastoid of his leg armor rasping against the dirt. Almost in sync with the harsh grating, pinpricks of light waltzed across the void behind her closed eyelids.

Then all at once, the specks of brightness collected, swarming into a unified, blinding glow. The sounds of Rex’s struggle vanished, cut off with a sharp inhale. Everything was white. Pure. Ethereal.

Someone, she realized, was shining a spotlamp down on her.

Ahsoka opened her eyes, blinking owlishly into the barrel of an Umbaran blaster. Pain throbbed deep within the recesses of her skull as her eyes struggled to adjust to the blazing light, and just barely, she could make out the curve of a rebel helmet. It was all she could do to simply stare back.

 _“Kriff,”_ Ahsoka heard Rex murmur. He sounded as if he was talking out of the corner of his mouth, and again, the sensation of being submerged underwater washed through her. “If you stay still, I’ll take the―”

The brilliant white glow returned, this time before her open eyes and accompanied by the scream of metal against metal. The roar of flames that followed drowned out the remainder of Rex’s words; Ahsoka was sure that she didn’t want to hear them, anyway. Her focus, instead, lay on the spider tank, blurry beyond the barrel of the blaster still inches from the tip of her nose.

The spider tank.

Spider _tanks?_

Surely she wasn’t seeing double ― they weren’t moving in unison, as far as Ahsoka could discern. In fact, one appeared to have completely blindsided the other, crushing it into the gorge wall. A dazzling array of green sparks flew up from the pinned tank, and Ahsoka blinked blearily into the light, her head clearing for a moment as she attempted to decipher the scene.

The Umbaran holding the weapon to her head made the mistake of doing the same.

And as her shoto split the air, impaling the rebel directly through his diaphragm, Ahsoka could faintly see a faded blue rishi eel stenciled onto the Phase II clone helmet that bounced within the greenish glow of the newly arrived tank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm,,, uh,,,, back. Hopefully updates won't be so freakishly rare now hAH. In any case, I finished applying for college! So!
> 
> I always love reading your comments, I can't express it enough, and as always, I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> PS: We've gotten past the big action-y bits now, for the most part. tHis iS WhERe tHE fUn bEgiNS

**Author's Note:**

> Well this was a monster and a half.  
> Again, any constructive criticism or feedback is highly, highly appreciated! Thanks for reading.


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